


Rust and Blood

by Doctor_Smiles



Category: Dragons - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Dragons, Eldritch, Explicit Smut, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Gods, Humiliation, Lovecraftian, Magic, Original Universe, Original work - Freeform, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Smiles/pseuds/Doctor_Smiles
Summary: You follow the view of Talus Redbane, a paladin of the ferocious god Elysium. Sent on a mission to recover and restore the ancient temple that belonged to his gods, Talus' eyes are opened to a new and horrifying world in which he must adapt quickly to the brutal tides of survival and change.Chapters are being updated and are subject to change as this work is a WIP.This is not so much smut as it is a story with elements of explicit content. Be warned.
Relationships: Talus Redbane/Healer Chia, Talus Redbane/Hothshine
Kudos: 9





	1. The Slow Crawl, the Quick Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talus goes on a journey and loses everything, even his pride.

**The Slow Crawl, the Quick Death**

_Chapter I_

Iron swords and heavy boots dragged in the muck and mud, collecting stench and taint like dirtied dishrags. Talus Redbane and his men had been trekking for months now on their holy crusade, intent on finding and restoring their god’s temple to its former glory. They had been going strong for the first few weeks, but rations had begun to dwindle, and the thought of hope was beginning to stink like the swamplands they were stumbling through. Talus stood at the front of the wake of armored soldiers and stoneworkers, his eyes steeled and hollow. It had been years since his last campaign in the name of his god, Elysium the Ferocious. His undying loyalty to her had granted him many a victory where no other human would have stood their ground, and the reward for his hardened devotion was yet another chance to prove himself to her. He clutches the onyx pendant hanging against his chest plate shaped after Her sigil, an intertwining set of wings and talons. Another victory would come this day, he could feel it… even if his men could only feel the mosquitos and flies gnawing on their flesh. Curse this rotted hellhole of a swamp.

One of Talus’ men nearly stumbles in his effort to reach the leader, grabbing onto his forearm and pulling himself out of a deep puddle for support. 

“Sir Redbane, this swamp… it’s… it’s close to the temple! I know by the stars that guide us!”

Talus stares at the sky, the early stars winking and promising a frigid night.

“And how much longer will it be until we reach the temple, Bertram?” The crimson paladin responds inquisitively. Another night of trudging through glacier dark would almost guarantee the death of his fellow men. 

“I estimate… about four more days--but that’s much closer than we initially anticipated, Sir! We--”

Bertram is cut off by Tal’s gauntlet, which slaps his chest softly. 

“I am not upset, Bertram, I am merely plotting our next move. Gather your things and find solid ground, men! We shall rest here until morn” shouts Talus, already using the only magic he knew to light a torch and search for sturdy earth himself. 

Sleep wasn’t impossible for anyone, this was actually comfortable by their standards. A swamp tree with a wide enough berth for soil to collect on its roots proved suitable for sleeping bags, and the closely knit trees were fitted with hammocks for those taking watch. Everyone was tired from their days of exploration. Everyone but Talus Redbane, that was. He lied awake, staring at the stars so high above, each so powerful yet equally untouchable. Each one reminding him of the gods he and his followers worshipped. That he and his followers could only admire the beauty of from afar. His thoughts drifted back to his younger years in a flash. The vows, the chastity, the bloodshed he desired with such deviance. Was he a monster? No, he was a devoted follower. A sanctum to others, others much less fortunate and weaker than he. Yes, he was a saint. Not a sinner. 

Talus’ recollections are interrupted by a halted cry of pain from one of his watches. Immediately he is shouting for his men and drawing his battle worn sword. No watch of his desired death enough not to scream, and no sounds of water were heard after. 

With torches lit and weapons drawn, Talus and his ten remaining comrades gather in a loose circle, swords and bows pointed at the murky waters around them with nothing else visible but their own reflections in the torchlight. The disembodied and chewed head of Azalithe, his watch, gave away a hunger most vile lurking beneath the floating algae. 

“Stay alert men, and no sudden movements. Bowmen, prepare to fire at any ripples in the water you see. We must not--”

There the creature lay, right in front of him. He only had a moment to spot its yellowed eyes before it leapt out at him, its mouth like an encroaching pit of death and teeth. Talus slashed with his mighty sword arm, cutting its flimsy flesh into fragments of bone and leathery skin. His bowman, Sarieth, was not so lucky, barely getting the chance to fire before a similar creature disemboweled them before his very eyes. It squirmed back into the mud-permeated waters, its limbless body slithering like an eel’s. Their circle got tighter, and Talus’ heart raced. They were surrounded, and possibly even outnumbered. Another leeching maw lurched at Tal, cutting into the flesh of his chest through the metal of his chestplate. With a roar like his dragon patron’s, he ripped its teeth from his pect and squashed it between his hands. Blood seeped down his gauntlets, likely his own. 

Talus’ other men seemed to be faring as best they could, but their injuries were mounting quickly from the endless onslaught. With a keen eye he noticed something peculiar about who they were attacking, and immediately a grin came to him.

“Men! Light the tree aflame! They are avoiding the light’s reach!”

Oil and lanterns were pulled from their sacks, Talus’ own included. With a brilliant ball of flame erupting in the night sky, and a twister of smoke making its way upwards to meet the stars, the attacks were halted. The sickly sycophants hissed from the water, their delicate sensory organs ripped asunder by the explosion of light. Bertram runs up to Talus, his adrenaline working its way into his voice.

“By the gods Redbane, how did you know the light would turn them away?”

“I didn’t, I just noticed that Ford wasn’t being targeted. Anything with a sense of taste always seems to attack him. I… I am not completely sure how I knew his torch was the key, though.” 

“Well, regardless we are alive once again. But we should move from this swamp while our light is still at large. There is a desert nearby that is the quickest route to the temple. I think we should go now while the men are… awake.”

Talus takes little time to consider this, his own mind frazzled from the sudden wounds and fighting. 

“Yes, I agree. Men! We must move, but grab your torches and stay close. Follow my lead!”

Exiting the swamp was not hard, but the beady eyes of the jumping bloodsuckers followed their every move. If they were not to die of related diseases later, he suspected his men would have nightmares about this, and the dead had to be left unburied. 

As they walked, crossing onto drier land, the crusaders sang a low and solemn tone for their fallen brothers in memoriam. Many had perished unfortunate deaths before Azalithe, some the most gruesome and dishonorable deaths possible. Talus had suspected that only the weak would die, but he had lost even the veterans to backstabs and acts of fate. Silently he pondered whether this was his punishment enacted by Elysium, perhaps to teach him the true meaning of ferocity and power. His stone gaze was broken by the familiar sounds of sand, and dust in his eyes. 

“We shall make camp here. Sleep soundly and know that I and my god shall look after you.”

  
  


The night was uneventful, and Tal could no longer seem to make sense of his own thoughts. With his energy for battle having worn off and his eyelids becoming heavy, his mind became abuzz with meaningless droll. The sun came over the horizon, and he woke his men with a shrill whistle, eager to carry on to the temple grounds ahead. Water had been no real problem as they had chanced upon various natural wellsprings and oases in their travels. It would be in high demand now, however. Talus worried that they may also not have enough to reasonably complete restoration of the temple.

The desert crossing was tame, albeit windy and contempt to blast the crusaders with sand every few minutes. Talus would not have worried had there been bones or any signs of life for that matter, but this desert seemed as though life had never touched it. Even the heavy skulls of animals, left behind by vultures were missing entirely. And the vultures… there were none. 

The sand grew to an ashy grey color as they came closer and closer, and suddenly Tal felt uneasy. No volcanoes were nearby to cause such a large amount of ash, and there would certainly be signs of civilization if it were from man. They continued on in the vast, unending wind and stained sand when suddenly a crunch was heard beneath Bertram’s feet. Immediately an arm covered in muddy grains of earth stabbed at the poor man, cutting his achilles heel with a sickly dagger. He fell, and more arms rose, ghoulish bodies following suit and leaping at the men with exotic swords and chakrams. Talus’ own sword met the necks of the nearest few attackers, but they seemed devoted to ending his and his companions’ life. Over and over they rose and fell, the crimson-trimmed paladin leading them to the temple through the desert as he ushered them on with valiant cries and inspiring words. But it was not enough.

The temple was in sight, and the undead had seemingly retreated. 

“Huzzah, we are--”

Talus looked behind him, only trails of red that ended completely a mere skip away from his own path. As he continued to look on in disbelief, he noticed that the sand was no longer sand, and instead countless, unnameable shards of bones, battered and cracked. Old… and fresh. 

He turned back around, and again noticed another bastardization. This time it was of his temple, the one he had so fervently fought to find and restore for almost a year and a half. It was a monstrosity. He could not look, but he could not look away from its alluring macabre design. The skeleton of its former glory, flayed and brought new life by seas of sacrifices. A new sacrifice seemed to be in progress in front of him, the dagger already raised and the prayers in order. 

It was a ragged setup, a set of figures cloaked in various human leathers encircling one figure with an odd crown of horns, teeth, and stretched skins. He uttered something in Talus’ tongue, but with deluded pronunciation. Tal could not understand if he tried, nor did he want to, as the sacrifice had been his last living companion amidst the bloodshed they’d experienced in the desert. He draws his sword, stained with every color but red. He would soon change that. 

A charge, with his shield raised and his sword propelled by the hatred and zeal he gave to his god, two of the praying subhumans had been cut down. Another two fell in halves before he met any resistance. Daggers, knives, and a wooden spoon, it meant nothing to his armor as he redoubled his efforts and killed everyone with no hesitation. His fury was not yet quenched, however, and he journeyed deeper into his ruined hopes and dreams. 

The temple seemed to have been converted into some sort of display of power. Massive creature bones supported torches for simple lighting, and the ground was inlaid with femur and tibia like brick and sod. The temple itself was of blocky pyramid shape, with a grand staircase of smoothed marble leading up to a private room making up the tip. Likely their leader’s, or at least someone with authority. The rest of the temple was made up of slits in the rocky supports too small for a human to crawl through, but enough for water or light to enter in on the sides. Talus remembered vaguely there being another chamber further below, but he knew nothing of the entrance. Each and every stone had been corrupted with etchings of demonic meaning. Whatever wretched minds had thought of this terrible and unsightly decor had to be put down at once. 

As the paladin walked, he noticed that cages had been erected on spires, each one filled with partially rotted human remains. One or two were being collected, and packed down into the very pathways he stood on. A few of the leather-wearing temple dwellers crept out from behind their bone huts, their children in smaller outfits following closely. One figure stood in the center of it all, just before the staircase to the temple’s innard. Talus recognized him as the head priest, or at least  _ a  _ priest. Twin stag antlers adorned with nooses carrying small animal skeletons and stretched squares of skin would certainly make his headwear the most respected out of these unerring sentients. He approaches, his sword now tinted crimson as much as his armor. The priest arches his back with a grin, and greets Talus with open arms tucked in robes of woven human skin. 

“You sycophantic, miscreant insect. What have you done to these holy grounds?”

The priest turns, his eyes shrouded by a hood. A set of mandibles from an insect corpse were strapped to his cheeks, and Talus chuckled disheartedly at his own word choice. The undaunted, unholy ritualist speaks much in the way a snake would hisses at the crimson soldier of zeal.

“Holy? Nothing is really holy, Paladin. This soil was sullied far before we arrived. Without the guidance of our god it would be—“

“Do not try and speak in riddles against me! My blade is close and it will sully the soil beneath  _ you _ when it arrives. Give me answers, fiend.” 

“I would strongly advise against killing me. Our Prince is already seething at your bloody hands, and they have killed far fiercer than the likes of you. I will show you to h—them if you follow me. They can answer more than I.”

“Very well. I will follow you lightly, and if I feel the weight of a lie I will balance it by removing your head.”

The priest simply cackles, his teeth bright and sharp. “I do not lie, but I enjoy your threats. They are crafty, Paladin.”

He gives a high-pitched whistle from between his mandibles, and a massive centipede bursts from the ground, carrying with it corpses and carrion to be dropped at his feet. He pets it and whistles again, returning it to the ground. Sifting through the pile of rot, the priest himself picks up a long spinal cord, still intact. A sizable skull is handed to Talus, not of human descent, thankfully. 

“We must present an offering to our god in order to enter. I would not need much in order to enter alone but… you may need something more than that because of your misgivings.”

Talus, always the bold one, simply walks over to the slain worshippers and grabs the other priest’s head, crown and all. 

“This will do, I think.” He says, a smile returning to his lips. 

The head priest gulps, and quietly beckons for him to follow up the cracked and resealed stone stairs. There are quite a lot, but neither the priest nor Talus show any sign of faltering. Halting, the priest stops at the very top step and turns to Talus. 

“I will enter beside you, otherwise they will think you have forced your way in, and I doubt you trust me to enter behind you.”

Talus nods. Even if the acolyte did try and attack him from the side, he had his shield on that half of his body, and an attack from a dagger would barely puncture his sturdy plate mail. The priest bows his head and knocks on the heavy wooden doors, speaking in a low, almost honorific way. 

“We have brought offerings to you Prince Hothshine, and we request entry. I have brought the spine of a dog, and our invader brings the crowned head of one of my subordinates.”

A few tense moments pass, and a low but strikingly sultry voice responds.

“You may enter, but I would like him to come alone Psikkorath.”

The head priest nods and backs away down the stairs as the doors are pushed open by two barely clothed servants. Dimly lit, but filled with the wondrous scents of cooked stews and exotic meats, Talus is drawn in by his own hunger. The doors are shut, locked, and kept close to by the servants behind him. The sultry voice echoes again, closer, and beckoning.

“You arrive here, claim my land unholy and stolen, kill one of my priests, and demand answers? Are you delusional?”

“Delusional? Maybe. But how did you know of my actions and intent so quickly? Do you commune with a god as well?”

“No. You were just very loud. Besides, the only god here is yours truly.” 

It echoed from right beside him now, much closer. Accompanying it was the sound of running water. Or maybe snakes slithering across the stone? Talus’ eyes darted around to look, but he could not be sure of anything in this damnable dark. 

The figure steps into the narrow circle of view, a large contradiction to Talus’ mental image of them. It is a woman, made very clear by her lavish chest, but the heavy scars, brutish physique, and barbaric outfit label her a demon in comparison to the town girls who had swooned over Talus Redbane so many years ago. His urge to speak up against this misinformation is too strong to ignore.

“You… are a woman. I was told of a prince. I do not understand. What is the meaning of this?”

‘Prince’ Hothshine picks up an axe fashioned from a dragon’s hip and laughs to herself knowingly. 

“You will soon find my womanly parts my most regrettable feature. Because to you and many others, they are always objects of my deception.” 

The god-prince Hothshine curves her figure to the side suddenly, her hands on her hips like a disappointed parent. As soon as he cautiously creeps forward pain erupts from the back of Talus’ skull, even through the protection of his helm. He barely had time to register the wound physically before all went black, her growing smirk and a slinking, scaly shadow the last thing the paladin saw. 

  
  


Talus awoke an unknown amount of minutes later. Or hours? Perhaps even days later from when he was last conscious. His throat was parched, and he could feel a damp sensation on the back of his head. Definitely blood, it was too hot not to be. The scents of exotic fruits and vegetables wafted into his nose, bringing him back to reality. 

He sat up, only to find he could not. He had been tied down with some sort of black rope, and his limbs had been forced away from his body with yet more of it. It took him a few moments to realize that he was nude because of the room’s warmth. That woman’s sultry voice spoke once more, doubling in intensity because of his headache.

“You’re finally awake. I considered going ahead with my plans while you were asleep but I figured it would be best to watch your conscious expressions. I swear it, each one has a better reaction than the last.”

Talus, with his headache, parched throat, and sore body, could only muster a simple question.

“Where… where is my armor? My sword?”

The god Hothshine laughed again, this time in raw amusement.

“Oh those things? You don’t need to worry about them anymore. I’m fairly certain my priests have already turned them into the very tools I’ll torture you with. I did tell you that you’d come to hate me.”

Something thick and spongy in texture was dropped on top of Talus’ cock, and through hazy eyes he looked up to see the matriarch. She had something strapped to her hips, replicating a set of male genitals. It appeared to be made from organic parts, possibly for better texture. Stuffed intestine surrounded by treated human skin ensured not only a ‘natural’ feeling, but an easier time dominating those below her. Hothshine couldn’t wait to hear the squeals and grunts of the male below her as the fake knackers on  _ her  _ cock slapped against his ass. 

Talus was no stranger to what was about to happen, and though he did not fear his impending invasion, he feared losing the will of his god for breaking his vow. He feared too the thought of his broken spirit, if he could not escape… 

Another brief glance, clearer this time, revealed the god to be smothering his rear entrance some sort of cold grease. He shivered and strained against the restraints as her fingers worked past his opening with little regard for delicacy. Her booming voice echoed in his ears again, another wave of pain erupting from his head. 

“No sense in fighting it. I’ve broken men twice your size with half as much shame. If I were you I would just accept my place.”

Talus grunts, working what little spit he had in his dry mouth into a wad. With accuracy he wished he had during the archery tournaments, he strikes the god on the cheek with it. He chuckles in triumphant exhaustion, but she smiles deviously and licks it off of her cheek with a snakey tongue.

“This will be fun.”

Immediately the false cock is pressed against his bare asshole, demanding entry. What little resistance he had is gone in his depleted state, and his vision goes white briefly as the thick rod reaches his deepest parts in one motion. The god-prince coos in his ears, now suddenly leaning over him. 

“There we go, you broke in pretty easily~”

Talus attempts to retort, but another quick slam into his ass causes him to gasp and stop. He hated every second of this, but he was now becoming aware of small bumps on the cock inside him, but to stimulate or torture he was not sure. Again she pulls out and slams into him, the strength of three bulls backing her. It was truly agony, but with each thrust the pain blossomed into a pleasant tingling. She showed no signs of stopping either, and applied more grease from a bowl nearby when she began to slow at all. 

With a grip of iron, Talus’ cock is grabbed by the god-prince, held in place for his punishment. Blood began to flow to the head despite his own wishes, cut off by the rough fingers ensnaring it. Gently his tip was stroked by her thumb as she emasculated him, an evil glimmer in the backs of her eyes. Another bashing of his prostate and another throb of his cock made her mad smile grow even wider.

“You’re the fastest one to break yet.” She moved closer, her scarred and smiling face nearly against his. “Something you want to talk about, O grand paladin?”

Through the pain and unusual new sensations, Talus began to audibly grunt and let loose girlish noises as she continued to pound him ruthlessly. His face was flushed in both embarrassment and unwanted arousal. This was not how a paladin of ferocity should be acting. Not at all. His moans echoed off of the dark chamber walls, and the woman on top of him began to cackle like it was a pleasant sunday stroll. 

After what felt like an eternity of struggling and writhing beneath the so-called-prince, the fake cock finally exited Talus. His sphincter was loose and could barely close, the grease used as lube trickling out of it like nectar from a rose. He groaned as his member was finally let go, weakly throbbing in the chilly air with marks left from her fingers. It was nighttime, and by now he couldn’t even see the female in front of him. A sudden smack to his face from the phallus in the dark woke him up once more. Her giggling, sinister and delighted, resounded from his left side. 

“This has been quite fun. I’ll have my servants tend to your… light wounds.”

She slaps his muscular thigh, some of the small cuts from her grip points stinging from the impact. Talus, now having only the strength of a newborn foal in his legs, passes out once more. 

Smooth hands gently make their way down Talus’ thighs, a cooling ointment that smelt of aloe coating them. As he comes back into focus, gentle humming makes a village girl next to him known. A recognizable tune, definitely fitting for the cult’s way of life. 

He knew it as the ‘Hymn of Baudros’, a tale about the olden god of Chaos. The story went that he was a hydra who grew a new head for each continent he conquered, but in the end he only created fertile soil from ash and natural paths for rivers and lakes to flow. Before Elysium, there had been Baudros. Were Talus born any sooner he may have worshipped the divine beast in her place, but the elder hydra’s figure was regarded closely alongside those of fiends and devils.

“How do you know that song?” He said, looking over to stare at the cloaked maiden who was tending to his wounds. 

“My mother, and her mother before her. It’s mostly a lullaby but I can’t remember the words.”

“A lullaby?! That song belongs to one of the gods! How dare you—“

Talus had strained his neck a little too far. Finally the paladin noticed how hungry he was, and how sore his body felt. It was as if his gift of resilience and strength had finally worn off in place of soreness and stiff joints. The caretaker says nothing and pushes his head back into its forward position, patting his cheek and leaving behind ointment globules. 

“You should rest. Hothshine said she wanted you to heal for your next meeting.”

“What for? So she can humiliate me and leave me feeling like a newborn in the knees?”

“Oh no, she only does that to those close to her… or as punishment, in your case.”

“If that was punishment I am not eager to get close to her anytime soon.” 

“Oh it’s very nice. You get to pick from her fruit trees as well if you want. Would you like some banana paste?”

Talus groans. This was by far the strangest encounter he’d ever had, topping even that of the witches they’d slain in the woods of The Haunt.

“Yes, fine. I’ll take whatever food you can offer.”

A spoon, likely carved from a bone (what was the reason for their fixation on bones?) is filled with a yellow mush from a pestle and mortar on the bedside and shoved in between his lips. Talus chewed, savoring the taste of the first actual food besides rations he’d had in almost a year. Sweet sensations flowed over his tongue, down into the back of his awaiting stomach. Immediately he began to warm, each bite bringing him closer to restored health. The spoon was then switched to another filled with vile green paste, tasting of milkweed and gnarlroot. Talus almost spits it out on contact, but the woman by his side grabs his mouth and holds it close, forcing him to swallow. 

Once the terrible taste is through, he gags and angrily shouts at the girl. She recoils and pulls a wicked knife from her cloak’s pouch. 

“You sick monster! Have you poisoned me!?”

“N-no” She says, clutching the knife to her breast. “I-I would not dream of it. Our god has demanded you remain a-alive and well.” She stutters passively, backing away from the built paladin on her knees. 

Talus stands, his legs less wobbly from his earlier defilement. He was now almost nude, garbed only in a long, leathery cloth wrapped around his hips that draped down to his knees. As soon as he withstands gravity enough to regain his bearings, the hut door is flung open. A deep, reverent voice speaks from the mandible-mouthed head priest.

“Chia! Hothshine wishes to speak with you. I will take him while he is weak to enact the second part of the initiation. Go!”

The bedside attendant, now known as Chia, scurries out past him. The head priest himself had not changed appearance much, aside from the entertained expression on his face. He puts into view his staff, a strong stick cut into a long, thin pole and topped by a bundle of animal horns and tusks. Talus knew he was in no position to fight, nor was he in any position to bargain. For all he knew they had killed the rest of his party, and their leader had already made it clear they had no restrictions in punishment towards him. Though… it had been mentioned that he was supposed to be kept ‘alive and well’. A smirk creeps over his dried lips.

“So, you wish to initiate me, yes? I hope it doesn’t involve losing my ability to walk.” Talus says, stretching and popping the length of his back.

“No. In fact, you will be walking for most of it. Come, I have much to tell.”

“Wait, no, I’m not going to follow you. You said earlier that your leader had answers, but now you are again the one I must turn to.”

“Yes.”

“I... “

Talus scowls, mostly to himself and his predicament rather than the religious official. He hesitantly walks after him to the outside paths of calcium, keratin, and dirt that lined the formerly-sacred temple grounds. Small fires had been prepared, he knew it was for their dinner by the scents of smoke and sacrifice. Against his own will he began to sniff the air, his body long deprived of a hearty meal. As he halts his following of the priest, he drifts off of the main path to the temple in favor of following the invisible beckoning of cooked meats. A moment later he receives a disciplinary bashing to his scarred chest from the priest’s staff. 

“You will get food after the initiation. Do not disobey--!”

Talus roars and punches the priest with all of his might, sending the young man to the ground and skidding. It had been a split second decision, but his anger had welled up too much to ignore. The priest, dazed and confused, stood back up and held his staff like a spear. At the very least, Talus knew he could still throw a godly punch. 

Their fight is interrupted however, by the god-prince herself exiting a set of stairs tucked on the side of the defiled temple. In the light of the broad bonfires he could see Hothshine properly now, though she was a tad shorter than he had envisioned her after last night. She was still heavily scarred, but he now noticed that some had been intentional by their thinner, more connected designs. ‘Probably another cult ritual’ he thinks dismissively, focusing instead on her outfit. Befitting to a lord, it was a thick set of dense green scales with bones for binding, This was not the same outfit she had adorned during their first private meeting, and Talus suspected she had meant to perform defiling actions from the very start of his arrival. She speaks, her authoritative voice like thunder in the dry air. 

“Psikkorath. Do not strike him, I would like his body as intact as possible. If he is to be wounded I will order you to wound him. As for you, dog, I will dehumanize you in ways unimaginable if you attempt to kill my priest. You are lucky the one you slew earlier was becoming annoying.” 

Hothshine growls at Talus, a strangely reverberant and inhuman noise for someone of her stature. The head priest Psikkorath does a cross-armed bow, stepping away and towards the stone stairway the prince had exited. Come to notice, even he was taller than her, and his outfit alone under other circumstances would have denoted him as being the leader. Why did they all fear her? 

Talus would come to know soon enough he felt, as her piercing eyes tore into him just moments later.

“Follow us, and know why you live still, Paladin.”

“Last time I followed you I ended up stripped and taken like a limbless whore.” Talus pipes, in no position to argue. Not that his position mattered to him, he was far too upset with everything at the moment to act like a lower class dog to these… these… he would think of a word later. “I do not fear the likes of you. While I do not have my sword or armor I am far more capable of fighting as I have trained for years under a literal  _ god _ .

“A god you have never seen? Isn’t that the same as writing a book from memory? How do you know you aren’t just hysteric?”

“I have visions from her, instructing me on the path I must take. You live with monsters of men who shrivel and die in the desert wastes.”

“Shrivel and die? Do you really think there would be such a flourishing community if we subsisted on sand and pebbles? Come.”

Hothshine raises her hand and offers it to Talus. He spied no device nor runework on her bare palms, but the rest of the runes on her body seemed imposing. With no idea what they were intended for, he could only assume they were unholy in nature. Stepping forward, he grabs her palm and attempts to crush it, only finding that her flesh was as dense as iron and he could not. Seeing as he did not incinerate upon her touch, Talus takes Hothshine’s hand and allows her to lead him down into the dank depths of the temple's base. He did not want to follow this strange woman’s whims, but part of his nagging consciousness told him it would be the easiest way to escape. 

Down he dove into the dark, daunting steps of the passageway. Only her hand could guide him in this darkness, the significance of which he had yet to understand. 


	2. The Grotto, the Secret

**The Grotto, the Secret**

_Chapter II_

Scents of moss and flowing water refresh Talus’ senses, shadowed by an overwhelming sense of calm in the air. The group of three, being the Head Priest, he, and the supposed god holding his hand, make their way lower on the stone platforms of his once splendorous grail. Psikkorath, still rubbing the wound from where Talus bashed him on the head, touches a hand to a seemingly unremarkable wall in front of them with his bare hand. Bright, yellow runes erupt from the dusty foundation of the wall, spreading outward until a circle of characters is present on the face of the cut earth. The high priest rubs his eyes from the sudden onset of light and begins shifting the circle back and forth with his hands effortlessly, as if turning a pottery wheel. After a few quiet, nerve-wracking moments of silence, the circle dissipates. Instantly the door vanishes from existence, baring view of a large, flourishing underground grotto. The space beneath the temple is large enough that trees, wild animals, and some flowing springs were beneath the canopy of stars above. Talus is amazed, and lets go of Hothshines hand to explore. The place had to be nearly 50–no, 60 meters in diameter. 

Upon further inspection, Talus notices that the ‘stars’ were not stars at all. The ceiling was very much the temple’s stone, but sparkling runes had been placed in sporadic patterns all across its surface. Almost every one was linked by faint white lines like constellations on maps of the sky, forming wonderful patterns akin to gods and beasts alike. He recognizes one as Baudros the multi-headed world terror, mentioned in the poem Chia hummed to him during his brief recovery. Talus did not know the exact date of the temple, but it would have to be much older than he originally thought for Baudros to be present in both lore and picture. 

“What is this place, and why was I never told of its existence?” Talus inquires, his eyes adjusting to the starry clearing enough to make out sleeping deer and birds in the conifer trees. A strange spiky reptile large enough to be a small alligator is resting near the base of a few ferns, and a mountain lion of some unknown variant is waking up to purr against Hothshine’s thigh as she enters. She bends down and immediately begins interacting with it as if it were a noble house cat, complete with the baby talking and face rubbing. Talus, try as he might, could not fucking understand this woman for the life of him. 

Finally she stops, clears her throat, and responds. 

“This ‘place’ is The Grotto. Simple as the name may be it is our haven of freshwater and live animals. Stigma’s ancestors decoded the runework and we found this place in exactly the same condition you see it now.”

“His… ancestors decoded this? How long ago, exactly?”

“I would estimate that happened roughly four decades ago. You mentioned that we defiled and stole this temple yet neither you nor your people have been here for years. If anything, these lands would belong to us since we restored them.” Hothshine says, shifting one arm to her hips and the other to pet the animal nuzzling her side. Talus scoffs, fed up with exaggerations and mistruths.

“Restored? All of my companions died to get here, and we were attacked by raving zombies. I have no doubt you or at least your priest had something to do with it. Even if that’s not the case you still heartlessly make clothes from the fallen, no room for respect or proper burial. I a-am leaving.”

His voice came out shakier than he liked. Much as he had probably been through worse, the god-prince’s ruthless domination of him left him feeling… exposed. More so than the fact that he was almost nude already, he felt as though his skin had been torn away and there was nothing hindering his emotions anymore. Like a dog without fur to protect it from the cold winds of winter. He shivers as the powerful words of the god-prince reach his ears once more. 

“Yes. I intentionally surrounded myself in an inescapable ring of undying soldiers and killers. No, I didn’t do that at all and Stigma is in charge of sifting through the dead for burials which we do indeed perform. We only use their bones if we absolutely must, and as you can see we have a bit of a surplus, paladin. 

“My name, Hothshine the God-Prince, is Talus Redbane.”

“That’s a very strong name for a very weak man.”

“Weak? I have dethroned tyrants and slaughtered armies. I have ended entire lines of witches, and burned the heretics who worshipped the desecrated old bones of kings!” He shouts, his presence waking all of the animals in the grotto.

“And yet the rest of your friends died under your lead! You are no stronger than a rat in a cage!” Hothshine shouts back, her voice sending the deer and squirrels running into the darkness of the trees. Talus lurches forward and she follows, the both of them grappling with near-equal force. Chia, the healing woman, steps out from the shade of a nearby spring during this tense moment. She sits next to Psikkorath, who has sat down on a patch of relatively dry land. They both look on at the useless battle as if it were a tree slowly burning. 

Hothshine smiled up at Talus as their hands locked in typical brawling style. Out of his armor he was much faster, and he knew how to utilize it well because of a certain incident involving an acid-breathing wyrm. With a quick sweep of his leg, he sweeps the woman off of her feet and onto the ground with a heavy crash. Heavier than he gave her credit for due to her small size, at least. She retaliates with incredible speed, grabbing his calf and yanking him onto his already sore back. Talus grunts, already getting to his feet again to find she had done the very same. Again he clashed into her palms roaring in vengeful anger, and so easily did she throw him off to the dirt that he began to believe her title more and more. Thinking quickly, he grabs a sizable rock off of the ground and hurls it at her like a trebuchet. As it sailed through the air, Hothshine did nothing. Talus watches on in awe and horror as she stands there sturdy as a ship’s mast, only for the rock to break into dust upon meeting her forehead. The small cloud clears and reveals her skin, totally unharmed.

“You… how?” Is all he can muster forth. The god-prince simply steps away and brushes some of the debris out of her oily hair as Psikkorath walks forth.

“You must have some semblance of who she is by now. Your due has been paid, Talus. We no longer wish to hurt you so  _ please _ , do not annoy her further.” He says, some deep tones of distaste hidden behind his words. Talus could not place why, however. 

“Annoy? Is that all I have done while she has ruined me inside and out? Your system of justice needs work, priest.”

He spits on Psikkorath’s bare feet, but the acolyte only looks on into his eyes with disappointment and quiet calculations. A moment passes and he clears his throat, creating more yellow symbols in his hand. This time they appeared a misshapen circle, the grand shape of the temple among the center. 

“We need you more than you think. Without you we would have finally succumbed to inbreeding and be doomed. With you, we may also finally be able to escape the clutches of the Circle of Undeath.”

“You need my help? You pegged me as soon as I showed up.”

“No, she had you pegged when you murdered our people.”

“You attempted to kill my subordinates.”

“You showed up bearing ‘holy’ banners with swords and shields, torches and hammers. How are we supposed to take that, paladin?”

Talus snorts angrily, his hot breath beating down on Psikkorath. 

“You paid your due.” He continues, despite Talus’ growing unrest. “We have paid ours. You won’t be able to leave even if we wanted to let you, so will you at the very least hear me out?”

“Fine.” He responds, his anger subsiding momentarily. He was zealous and a warrior at heart, but he would not be where he was today if he were not also tactical. Even if they were lying, he doubted that the so-called ‘Circle of Death’ wasn’t a threat on its own. Those ghoulish figures had taken almost all of his men, dragged them to places unknown and done things unknown. There would also be no threat of inbreeding after a few generations if they were able to leave and return in the first place. 

“Good.” Psikkorath retained the glowing image of the surrounding desert in his palm, gesturing to the darker radius around it. “This is The Circle of Death. It has been keeping us hostage in these grounds for generations, but none of us have been able to track down a specific source. If we could, it would not be a problem but... none of us are willing to kill more innocents than we have already.”

Talus glared when he mentioned ‘killing innocents’. If either of them had known the hypocrisy of their words… no matter. He was trapped here and subject to their rules for now. 

“What are you suggesting, exactly?”

“I’m suggesting you leave behind your mark, then you help Hothshine and I destroy the circle once and for all.”

“My mark?”

“Your seed, if that’s your preferred term. Don’t notify her I told you such, but the healer woman Chia seemed particularly  _ allured  _ by you.”

Talus couldn't really tell because of the priest’s unique mouthwear, but he seemed to be smiling. He turns to Chia, who promptly looks away and shifts on her sitting rock to look at the trees. He chuckles and looks back to Psikkorath, who has disappeared from the area entirely. As has Hothshine, leaving the two of them alone…

Talus exhales to calm himself of his prior anger, now delighted. That is, until he remembers his sacred vow to Elysium. Chastity hardly applied now that he’d been taken in such a horrific manner, but at the same time he wondered if he’d lose her gift should he go forward with this. Looking back at Chia he scratches his chin before sighing and leaving the temple’s lively stomach entirely. 

As he steps out into the freezing air of the desert’s night, Psikkorath and Hothshine turn to face him as if he had interrupted something. Utterly surprised, Hothshine approaches him whilst his feet still lay on the cold steps.

“Did you lose your courage during that skirmish, or was my punishment towards you too harsh to bear?”

It seemed a genuine concern, very much unlike her earlier attitude towards him. The inbreeding was either the most elaborate lie woven here or they had been telling the truth the whole time. Talus severely doubted Hothshine was the lying type due to her status and power amongst the villagers, and people of her caliber rarely needed to lie. After all, they could just as well crush any opposition or back their own words with iron and spilled blood. The decision to put a little faith in her occurs to him, and now was as good an opportunity as ever to test the boundaries of her draconic heart. 

“It’s not courage, or even shame. My vow as a paladin prevents me from intermingling with anyone not chosen as either my equal through combat or by Elysium herself. It is the same reason I consider your punishment cruel and unjust.”

Psikkorath does a polite bow and walks off to one of the huts while Hothshine strokes her cheek in thought. 

“Cruel and unjust as it may be, it is the only way my people would accept you back without bloodied spears and daggers in the night. Our customs are very different from yours. I have no doubt in that, but I am not a god of public opinion as much as I would like to be. While I do detest your murders, you are exactly what this place has needed since its beginning. You have been shamed but for good cause, paladin.” She pauses again, staring down into the bowels of the architecture where Chia remained. “Fine. I will not force you to lay with her, but at the very least you  _ will  _ help Psikkorath and I rid the village of its own confines. Understood?”

Talus nods slowly, a glimmer of trust for the god-prince rising within the stirred contents of his deep hatred. 

“Yes, I understand. Where will I be sleeping? I have not had proper rest in months and it is very late.”

“You will be sleeping within my High Priest’s hut. He has a spare bedroom for guests and the mentally unwell, which I suppose you are both of.” Hothshine says bluntly, pointing to a slightly larger and more decorated hut. A massive, dried centipede husk decorated with yet more yellow runes is curled around the body of the building, its dead eyes keeping watch over the door frame. Psikkorath could be seen entering himself, pushing away the hanging cloth separating the interior from the outside. 

Talus nods again, turning back to Hothshine.

“Thank you. But how will I help you fend off the undead hordes if I have no weapons or armor?”

“We will give you your old armaments back. We have no real use for steel in our current situation, and we cannot get our furnaces to burn hot enough to melt your armor anyhow. It seems to resist heat quite well for some reason.``

He grunts in discontent, but he is pleased he would have his gear returned to him in a stroke of circumstantial luck. 

“Very well, I will rest for the night.”

Talus walks away, entering Psikkorath’s hut through the door flap. Inside the entrance is a small set of shelves containing what he assumed to be religious literature bound in tanned hides and racks for drying meats. Beyond this short section was another flap, which the paladin cautiously moved out of the way to reveal a larger room in the innards of the hut. Psikkorath was busy trimming some white-petaled flowers in a small garden setup just in front of him. To his left was a door to what he figured was the guest room from its empty inside, and to his right was another room that was most definitely the High Priest’s from its decorated build. He stepped forward onto the smoothed wooden flooring and sat down on a nearby chair in the corner made from bones and hide. Psikkorath trims a few of the flower heads off and crushes them in a mortar, placing the strangely scented paste in his hut’s window.

“So.” Talus begins. “I’m sleeping here tonight. Why should I trust the strange mage who knows magic not to do anything while I am dreaming?”

“You can trust me because I would have turned your intestines into a nice vase with magic if I really wanted you dead.”

Talus opens his mouth to speak and then quietly closes it, moving into the guest room to sleep without another word. The leather and cotton bed was quite comfortable compared to the ground and sand he’d been forced to sleep on the past few months of his journey. 

The sun shines through the tears in the primitive leather curtains and wakes Talus. Groaning, but pleasantly surprised at the lack of nightmares and soreness, the warrior of crimson stands and gets up out of the bed. He performs his morning stretches to keep his body limber, stepping out a few minutes later to find Psikkorath drinking some sort of tea in the only chair in the room. 

“Good morning.” Says the priest, greeting him with a nod and an offer of more tea brewed on the counter by the plants. 

“What manner of herbal tea is this? It smells profound.” Talus says, moving closer and inspecting the bowl in which the tea had been prepared. Next to it sat the mortar and pestle Psikkorath used the night prior. 

“It is Datura. I drink it because it calms my mind but for anyone else they would likely go insane from its poisons.” 

“Poisons? Are you attempting to kill me?”

“No, but if you drank it after knowing that I would know for sure that you either don’t trust me or you’re an idiot.”

“So it’s a test then?”

“Something like that. Hothshine may say your punishment has been paid and you should be viewed the same as the other residents but I cannot bring myself to. You did kill  _ my _ priests and students.”

“Then I will repay your debt by helping and promptly leaving.”

“We shall see.” 

The morning was unexciting. It was explained by Hothshine that they would be delving into the desert and fighting off undead hordes for as long as they could whilst tracking down anything unusual or arcane in nature. Psikkorath droned on about strategies in the tent that had been set up for the paladin, the god, and the priest himself while this happened, using complex words for magic only Hothshine seemed to understand fully. In most of the plans presented, Talus seemed to be either bait or some kind of resilient cannon fodder for the undead. This he did not like.

“Why can’t we just use some of the other priests or warriors from the village? It seems inefficient to attack with just three.” He says, putting his hands together. 

“The three of us are more than capable, and anyone more would present risks for collateral damage.” Hothshine responds, making an explosive motion with her fingers. 

“What do you mean?”

Hothshine glances between Talus and then Psikkorath, who cocks his head to the side back and forth. She turns back to Talus with a secretive look in the back of her eyes.

“You would be freeing our people from this place and this way of life. Is that not enough reason for a paladin to fight and die honorably?”

“Your people? I wouldn’t die for them. They are savages and they would spread across the world like flies if they weren’t stopped.” Talus responds harshly, spitting on the sand inside the tent’s ground. 

“We do not live this way because we are savage.” Psikkorath protests, standing and slamming his war staff into the ground. “Our ancestors needed to adapt to the harsh environment! Do you think we would be skinning our fellow men and women to use their bones and skin if we could make better things from wood and steel?!”

“Psikkorath, calm down. He has likely only seen such brutality from criminals and the insane.” Hothshine mentions, motioning for the priest to sit back down. “We can’t forget he is from very far away and from a very unfamiliar culture. It will take time to get used to.”

“You say that as if he’s going to survive the battle, Hothshine. Even if he does have his armor we’ve never seen him fight.” Psikkorath interjects with a pointed hand furiously. “How do we know he can fend off what we need him to while my husks burrow for the source?”

“He has fended off the elements and fiends well enough, Psik. Do not question my judgement again.” Hothshine snaps, snarling in a bestial manner. Psikkorath remains silent for a moment, then leaves the tent’s interior. She turns back to Talus, slight worry planted in her eyes. 

“This situation is very complex. I apologize on his behalf.”

“He seems to be upset more with your judgement than my actions.” Talus chimes. 

“Psikkorath is upset with both of us for different reasons. He and I don’t always see eye to eye, but my word trumps his. When it came to you he suggested you be kept as a slave because of your crimes. Since I allowed you to live and walk freely among us, he suspects I have become attached to you.”

“Have you?”

“No, otherwise I wouldn’t be sending you on this mission with us. The plan still stands as he suggested by the way. You will fight off the hordes while he and I dig for their source. If we fail we are all doomed anyway, you included Talus.”

“... Fair enough. I was planning to fight anyway, if you wondered.”

Hothshine smirks and exits the tent. Talus leaves through the leather flap to find the husk over Psikkorath’s tent staring him down with rotted black eyes. In its many legs it carries his armor, covered in minor scratches but nonetheless useful. The sword is held in its mandibles, extended out to him. Talus smiles and joins his two new companions once he is done donning his equipment from the sickly servant’s claws. They begin to walk out of town and into the outskirts he came from only a few days ago, back to face the monsters that had killed his men. 

The sand was quiet, even for the desert. The wind had completely halted its movement, leaving Talus and the others exposed to the sun with no respite or cool. The remnants of trader caravans hidden under the dunes made themselves known below the sand from minor shifts in the earth beneath them. Likely Psikkorath’s animated husks digging on in search of their target. Talus continues on, inspecting the caravans above for perhaps a cursed relic or ominously glowing rock. Nothing could be found in any of them except for their rotting frames. 

With his sword he prods around in the sand, and yet still nothing revealed itself to him. He also found it very peculiar that no zombified hands had struck him yet, even though he was taking the same steps he had when he first arrived. A thought occurs to Talus, likely the result of actually using his brain for once.

“Hothshine, Psikkorath. We are not being attacked, yes?”

“No.” Psikkorath replies, his eyes masked by a dim sheet of yellow light. “But the bodies are still there. They are still but… waiting, I think.”

“Yes. Exactly. For what? We can make no moves against them from up here.”

Hoth’s eyes narrow. “You mean they aren’t attacking because we aren’t close to the source. That’s incorrect. Their radius of attack is random and changes every night, but it is wide enough that we don’t want to risk getting drowned in sand.”

“That’s not my point. Yesterday they attacked me here, and there’s no reason for them not to if I pose a threat. I propose instead that the source was simply moved, and they are protecting it.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Hoth says, hands on her armored hips. “I do not think—“

“No, he’s correct.” Psikkorath says, cutting her off promptly. “Even though there are bodies left here, there are much fewer than those that attacked his men a few days ago.”

The priest turns to Talus, his eyes reverted to their state of regular hazel. “Talus, you have fought in wars yes? If I were an enemy trying to protect something, what is the most rational step forward if I have been attacked before?”

“Well, relocate obviously. But further away, maybe to an opposite point so I have more time to recuperate.” Talus responds, putting his sword back in its sheath. 

“Yes, exactly. Hothshine, those tremors Chia mentioned beneath her hut after our first encounter with Talus may not have been simple earthquakes.” 

Talus refutes something that popped in his head. Perhaps the arrival into this new and horrifying land had awoken his paranoia as a part of his survival instincts. 

“Why have neither of you figured this out before? It seems fairly straight forward.”

Psikkorath turns to Talus, a distraught expression planted on his face. 

“Well… we have not tried in many years. Hothshine’s father only told us exploration was too dangerous around the borders to go in the first place. Perhaps that time Hothshine got caught—“

“Psik. Watch your tongue.” She glowers. 

“Yes. Right. Shall we go then?”

Hothshine nods, and the priest and the god-prince take off back towards the town without another word. Talus scowls, running after them. He knew he could have escaped if there was no threat of ambushes from below, but he had neither rations nor the will to brave the landscapes previously traveled without them. 

Through the town Talus runs, his armored soles clanking against the bone tiles like a blacksmith’s hammer. The two ahead of him seemed to know exactly where to head, but he was still busy processing the chain links of logic they had climbed to bolt away immediately. 

He found them perched on an outcrop of sturdy sandstone, scanning down below at the hills of sediment and dust. Psikkorath’s husks had been reduced to dry debris from unseen swords and spears. 

“Definitely over here.” The priest mutters, casting another ring of yellow light and blasting the desert away from the arid landscape. 

Like ants beneath a rock, the undying warriors from eras past are left exposed and subsequently rush out towards the three on the outcrop. Talus barely had a moment to prepare himself before the wave of tattered rags and rusted iron bashes into his shield, skidding back a few feet in the ground. Psikkorath and Hothshine are already occupied spellcasting and head mashing respectively, their fighting echoed across the vacant air from its force. Talus found himself wedged between two spearmen with hole-riddled shields bearing sigils of some sort of tree. Both of them thrust from behind in the same sit-second, and Talus’ shield is forced to bear the undead’s spearheads. Thankfully his shield seemed to be resilient as ever, and he pushed them onto their backs for a quick set of decapitations. 

Onward, the paladin could see Psikkorath’s animated, centipedal husks writhing about and thrashing the enemies into decomposing body parts. Hothshine also seemed to be faring quite well, the swords fracturing against her skin and leaving only minor cuts and bruises. The main problem hung over all of them, however. The soldiers were following battle tactics of which Talus had never seen, and they only kept rising from their graves endlessly. 

A surprise strike from behind pierced his hip, the spear thankfully caught in place by his armor in a way that prevented it from going all the way through. Talus turns back and swiftly cuts through the zombified remains with his longsword, pulling out the head of the pointed stick with his shielded hand. As more of the horde rushes towards him, he calls to his companions for action.

“We must get below the ground! We are too exposed here and we will die if we do not—ungh!” He slashes at another ghoul soldier that had managed to strike his shield. “If we do not cut them down at the source!”

Psikkorath nods, Hoth landing from a particularly high jump beside him. More of the centipede bodies begin burrowing around Psikkorath as he chants, the god-prince doing her best to stop any of the undying from laying a weapon on the beasts. The sand cascades like a sinkhole, causing the three fighters to tumble down into a large cavern along with the skinless army. Talus only remembered cutting the un-life from a unit before the faint, sickly green light left its eyes. Pain exploded all across his back the second after, and he screamed aloud as he realized he was still alive to feel it. All went quiet save for the still-shaking skeletal hand next to him, which he quickly silenced with his sword. For now, the hordes had ceased their advances on his compatriots. At least he thought that was the case until he noticed the tomb-riddled crevices in the stone partitions now surrounding him. A crypt, and he was alone. 

Curiosity and nothing else takes hold as he finally gets a moment of respite, glancing over at the skeleton body he’d laid his sword to. Polished red armor with grey trim and a helmet designed to look like a black-horned dragon’s skull. Anyone else would have deemed this as tacky usage of color, but Talus immediately reeled away after he spotted the emblem on its breastplate. A crimson six headed hydra with horns perched on top of six slashes, a grey shield shape behind it making up the crest. Baudros’ sixth and last legion, which had been sent away from its home city conveniently before a mass attack which destroyed it. Sent away… but why here? Talus knew the temple was old, but for it to be the object of defense made no sense if the people above had been inhabiting it with no trouble. It also didn’t explain why the soldiers persisted after death, or why they limited their attacks to the Circle of Death. 

Talus pocketed the crest after prying it off, turning his eyes away from the soldier and down the halls of the catacombs he was now trapped in. He began walking in hopes of finding a way out or one of the others, but knew it would likely not end that way. A glow from the edge of one of the catacomb’s corners catches his eye, turning him on a new path. The tunnels became much wider, with a much clearer sense of direction relative to the city. Unlit torches were lined against the cool brick walls, no light from their depths, but a faint alien color in its stead. Talus recognizes this as the same shade from within the ghoul’s eyes before it died, and he begins to pace himself faster. His sword now drawn and his shield held as firmly as he could manage with the damage from the fall, he makes a turn and finds himself in a large, circular space filled with soldiers in rank and file. Each of their eyes a shade of the undying light, and staring lifelessly ahead at Talus. 

At the dark room’s center is a large oval shaped rock, faintly pulsing with the same light. Standing stiffly behind it is a formidable champion figure among the rest of the army, draped in decadent but faded armor from glory days past. Talus’ eyes finally adjust and allow him better sight from the off-green torches in the room, unmasking it as some sort of king’s burial chamber. Baudros’ six heads are etched in stone on the curved enclosure of the room, seemingly watching the otherworldly, elliptic shape. 

Talus was not sure whether to be more shocked that they did not attack him on sight, or that the champion opened its mouth and spoke to him through its rotted and tattered vocal chords. 


	3. The Past, the Beginning

**The Past, the Beginning**

_Chapter III_

“Stop. You must. Stop.” It said, voice shaky and old but still holding the roots of its intimidation and command. “This place is no treasure, nor tomb to be looted. This place leads only to the end of all things.”

The skeleton seemed more aware of its immortal predicament than its underlings, using its hands and making more expression than the stiff-jointed grunts he’d fought before. Talus cautiously steps out from the shadows, presenting himself in an upright and formal manner with his burly hands to his side.

“The end of all things? These are Baudros’ grounds, and he is dead.” 

“Gone, yes. But--”

Psikkorath and Hothshine burst into the room at that exact time, both immediately hacking and slashing at the small squadron of undead soldiers. The commander is promptly cut down mid-sentence by a bolt of energy from one of the priest’s spells, reducing his already fragile body to ash and smoldering cloth. Psikkorath then slaps his palm against a flat surface of the strange ovaline artifact.

The room fills with sounds of screaming and violently bright lights, every hue that could possibly burn to look at all at once. Talus is forced to brace and shut his eyes, but by the time he does it is already over. 

“What are you doing? He was about to tell me what in

“Stop. You must. Stop.” It said, voice shaky and old but still holding the roots of its intimidation and command. “This place is no treasure, nor tomb to be looted. This place leads only to the end of all things.”

The skeleton seemed more aware of its immortal predicament than its underlings, using its hands and making more expression than the stiff-jointed grunts he’d fought before. Talus cautiously steps out from the shadows, presenting himself in an upright and formal manner with his burly hands to his side.

“The end of all things? These are Baudros’ grounds, and he is dead.” 

“Gone, yes. But--”

Psikkorath and Hothshine burst into the room at that exact time, both immediately hacking and slashing at the small squadron of undead soldiers. The commander is promptly cut down mid-sentence by a bolt of energy from one of the priest’s spells, reducing his already fragile body to ash and smoldering cloth. Psikkorath then slaps his palm against a flat surface of the strange ovaline artifact.

The room fills with sounds of screaming and violently bright lights, every hue that could possibly burn to look at all at once. Talus is forced to brace and shut his eyes, but by the time he does it is already over. 

“What are you doing? He was about to tell me what in the Infernal Planes is going on!” Talus protests, putting his hands to his helm in disbelief. Psikkorath swaddles the glowing object in a cut piece of his robes, denying the light further damage to their eyes. 

“We will find out nonetheless. I have studied a great many oddities that my ancestors left behind in their day. This... _ artifact _ ... will be no more difficult than the runebooks and blood rituals I had to make sense of when I was young.” The priest responds defensively. 

Talus sighs at Psikkorath’s response, the spellcaster confident in wasting time for what may have been a straightforward answer before his . Sheathing his sword in the strap by his hip, Talus walks away without another word and begins searching for an exit. Hothshine follows tentatively, confused. 

“Where are you going? There could be more.”

Talus lurches around and meets Hoth’s face with the prow of his helm, glaring into her eyes through the slits in the steel. 

“That was most likely the leader that you just killed, and the object of their undeath that Psikkorath has just snatched. There is no more battle and for once I am glad. I am leaving. Enjoy the consequences of your hotheaded actions”

Hothshine swallows and clasps her hands together, resting them on her abdomen.

“If that is what you feel you must do then fine. I grant you permission to leave. If you decide to return we will welcome you back with open arms.”

But Talus was already striding away, following the collapsed tunnels and scattered spiderwebs to a surface path. One was found in relatively short time, a tunnel bored by one of the priest’s husks that led to an outstretched section of relatively sturdy granite rocks. The heat of the unfiltered desert sun sweltered inside of his armor, but he felt too apathetic to bother taking it off. Besides, he had just become accustomed to wearing it once again and in the odd chance he was attacked it would be a terrible thing to be defenseless. 

Talus’ thoughts ran as if they were finally as free as he was, and he realized he hadn’t even asked for an ounce of rations or water. No matter, he could survive long enough on the banana paste he’d been fed the past few days. The desert was also not very large, and he figured those leeches in the swamp water just east would taste well enough boiled and roasted. He could probably also manage to purify the water if he absolutely needed to… 

The meandering ideas passing through his head are interrupted by a sudden burst of wind from behind him. Whipping around, Talus is met with the afterimage of a massive, forest green dragon. He blinks in reflex expecting death, but when he opens his eyes he is met with the face of Hothshine. Despite the moment of awe and curiosity, he knew better than to ask prying questions, and in the moment he was in too poor of a mood to speak first on anything. She instead takes the first action, pushing a tied leather sack of smoke-scented meats and berries to his chestplate. 

“You left before we could give you a proper sendoff. Here is a bag of some food Chia had prepared for your departure.”

“I didn’t really plan to say goodbye to  _ you,  _ ‘god-prince’. Not after the things you put me through.”

She seemed disappointed. Perhaps even distraught by his answer, though she didn’t show that much on her stony expression.

“At least take these. If you die out in the desert I may never find your bones.” 

Talus took the supplies from her begrudgingly, stomping away through the sand without even thanking her. Not that he really should, since she did force him to fight through hordes of undead and take that  _ vile  _ punishment in her bedchambers. Even if it had been to free her people, he did not think they deserved freedom by his hands. Of course they had probably just sealed their own fates by ignoring the warnings of the last semi-living member of Baudros’ Sixth Legion. A missing legion defending an ancient temple--the object of his entire journey out here, and it belonged to a god even more powerful, more feared than Elysium. He would very much be having a talk with her after this, especially since it had gotten he and his comrades killed by both the undead and the savages that permeated the temple’s grounds. 

Talus’ trek through the crawling sands begins not with a victorious cry or a screaming death, but with a silent feeling of betrayal by his god and a sense that he was simply a pawn in her eyes. If this was how Elysium truly treated her paladins, he wanted dealings with her no longer. Had he been even the slightest bit more informed he could have avoided the deaths of all of his comrades. They likely couldn’t have reclaimed the temple anyhow with Hothshine and Psikkorath being just  _ two  _ of the savage townsfolk. Talus also doubted Elysium would never have done recon on an area she wanted recaptured, it would be stupid not to. In that case, she had purposefully kept the information from him. But why?

His ponderance was left to dwindle in his travel, but by the end of his thinking he realized he simply did not know enough to draw a proper conclusion. Talus realized just how long he’d been walking when he passed the skeleton of his fallen comrade Azalithe, left without flesh for the wildlife to gawk at. Truly a horrible way to die, but Talus saw no point in burying him after all the time it had been exposed to the elements. 

He passes the corpse a little remorsefully, dipping his toes into the swaths of mud encircling the swamp a ways away. Thus began his journey home, and subsequently his journey back to his homeland. 

Talus’ homeland was ruled by his god Elysium, yes. Much like how Hothshine’s… state? Village? Hamlet? He wasn’t sure the terminology for their habitation. Whatever the name, their center for worship as well as visits with their ‘god’ much reminded him of his own home. The only difference was that there was much less human skin on everything and the streets were made of a smooth brick tiling. They also had horses and carts, and there was no sole spot in which they all had to travel and get permission to survive. 

Talus came upon the dense stretch of forest bordering his home of Elys, named after its god, Elysium. It was at the center of the trampled paths cut through from the trade routes they’d established over the years and the patrols fending off their many rivaling kingdoms. One of said patrols was busy escorting a carriage, likely a noble from one of their allies. Running up to the guards he introduces himself promptly, and after some explaining of his regrettable position he manages to hitch a ride in the carriage. The fat bastard inside seemed displeased but didn’t dare speak up against Talus as he sat down. He certainly glared all he wanted though. 

Talus’ home kingdom was as glorious as he remembered it. Trainee paladins sparring in the yards outside the castle walls, the walls themselves decked with black and yellow banners bearing Elysium’s sigil. The men at the gate opened it promptly, an unfamiliar grinding of iron as it did. They must have finally installed that gear system on behalf of the new allies and enemies they’d gained. 

Inside the holy walls, Talus exits the carriage and makes sure he has everything. Venturing through the fairly straightforward streets he’s able to find the temple, Elysium’s temple of worship to be exact. Like the rest of the buildings around it, it had many grand tapestries and banners of Elysium’s sigil hanging below the Grecian and medieval architecture. Several other paladins were standing guard between the pillars of the temple’s entrance, wearing armor similar to his but less established in rank. The two at the door immediately recognize him despite the battle damage his exterior had suffered, and the doors are promptly opened to him. Talus quietly chuckles to himself.

The temple’s interior itself was quite small, at least for the main chamber in which Elysium laid most days. The rest of it was devoted to guard housing, a few guest rooms, a jail a floor down, and some indoor gardens containing imported and rare herbs. The dragoness herself rested on a massive black cushion, filled with cotton and wool for maximum comfort. Her massive yellow eyes opened to view Talus as he walked closer and bowed, the golden runes on her body gaining brightness by the second. She speaks, a gruff but undoubtedly commanding and feminine voice. 

“Paladin Redbane. You return… alone. What news do you have of the desert temple you were sent to reclaim?”

Talus cleared his throat, sweating a bit. He knew the punishment for failure but hoped her cruel visage would give way to a warm heart. 

“I…” He searches for words. “I have discovered many things about that temple, and those things have been the death of all of my friends.”

They weren’t really his friends, but he had cared about their status of being alive. Elysium didn’t seem to share his feelings, her eyes immediately narrowing.

“What have you  _ discovered _ that would cause you to lose everything including your team members? Did you perhaps find your own incompetence out in the sand?” She growls loudly. Talus stands his ground, explaining himself.

“No, I encountered the temple and found it according to the route. The temple was surrounded by these horrific zombies—they killed nearly all of my team. Then there were savages at the temple who sacrificed the rest! I was powerless to stop them under the thumb of their god.”

“Their god? Talus, you know there are no gods to worry about besides me. The rest are dead or simply imposters.”

“I saw her turn into a dragon, and she had the physique to match. You cannot tell me—“

“SILENCE!” Elysium roars, bringing her claws crashing dangerously close to Talus’ legs. She was now eye-to-eye with him, the runes glowing like torches in the brick belly of the structure. “For your immense failure I shall have you executed.” 

Talus wasn’t given much time to react, seeing as her jaws were already opened and lunging at him. Something in his mind clicked during that moment, that millisecond to think. His shield was already raised and cutting through the air. 

Elysium’s neck and head are forced away from the impact’s strength, her jaw now mildly crooked and her cheek scales chipped at their edges. The dragoness gives a half-muffled roar of pain before the interior guards begin to surround Talus. Naturally, he runs out of the temple and down the stairs without a second thought as he has just attacked a literal god. 

The guards are confused and scrambling at first, but once word gets out that he’s been ordered dead they quickly find composition and begin chasing after Talus. Down every street corner he found one or two ready to cut him off, but they could not withstand his tower shield’s blunt force. While they lay below him, he charged ahead to the edge of the city and back to its bordering forest. Talus only knew the forest because he’d been given a map of it on his journey out, though he’d planned to use it as toilet paper on his trek back home. 

Fishing it from his pocket in its crumbled form, Talus hurriedly reads the details inscripted on the torn papyrus, leading him through the fastest route out of the holy city and to the west. A misstep while looking at the map catches him off guard, and he tumbles into a thornbush bordering the worn road. Talus quickly gets to his feet and hears the rushing of soldiers to his location. Drat, they’d followed him.

There weren’t any carriages he could rightfully steal, nor horses he could attempt to tame nearby. Talus also felt something unexpected: his armor was becoming heavier with each step, almost totally immobilizing him. He unclasped his chestplate and leggings, keeping only his gauntlets. It was better to not question how it was happening, but he knew without any hesitation that it had to do with Elysium and her proficiency for runes. Blasted magic and spellcasters. They always seemed to have the right magical word for every situation, but Talus could never learn anything past the basics. 

As these thoughts about himself continued, Talus realized he’d never been better than any of the other paladins. He wasn’t the worst in his line of work, but there were certainly more adept fighters and magical users who served under Elysium. She hadn’t even asked him  _ what _ they’d encountered fully, and had seemed to decide upon his execution as soon as he returned. 

He drifted back to his earlier thoughts as he sought shelter in the wooded underbrush. Talus couldn’t even say for sure if he’d ever been devoted to Elysium now that his mind was in a place to question loyalty. She ruled out of fear, and while Hothshine did the same the god-prince did not strike down those who spoke against her or provided better solutions. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t  _ supposed _ to return. Evidence of another god who treats their subjects with love and kindness rather than rusted chains and bloody swords would surely cause the civilians to flock elsewhere. Elysium had to know this as much as he did, there was no alternative motive for what she’d done today. 

A single patrol on a horse passed the vine-laced bush Talus had hidden in, interrupting his thoughts with the loud gait of its hooves. With the smoothest rock he could find nearby, he successfully knocked off the rider with a concussive blow to the head. This upset the horse for a few moments but Talus, with a swift mounting, managed to calm it and ride it off and out of the conifer trees. 

The escape from the eyes of the city’s archers was a bit nerve-wracking, though he swore a few didn’t even bother to aim at him. Apathy maybe, or perhaps old friends. He wasn’t entirely sure but nonetheless he thanked them silently. His steed (who he’d deemed ‘Hoofkyre’ after an old tale about some sort of sea horse) was an excellent breed for long-distance riding. Despite the loss of its old owner it seemed accepting of him for the time. This posed another question in his head, which evolves into an opposition, and then a position from which to argue with himself. 

‘Why weren’t we given steeds, or at the very least beasts of burden?’

‘The terrain was too tough to traverse.’

‘But that makes less sense. The swamp was the only stretch of tough land.’

‘...’

‘We were also given few tools of repair, and even fewer supplies to do so. Were we expected to cobble together a new temple from nothing?’

‘It was suicide then?’

‘It was suicide then.’ 

The patterned rocking of his brain up and down on his steed must have helped him think. He realized that if Elysium had sent him with no tools, no means of reconstructing the temple, then she would have had to have known he’d find opposition. But why would she send him and the others to die? It made little sense. He’d never defied her, and though he hadn’t been the most devoted out of his peers he’d accepted the conditions of his paladinhood. He regretted not bedding Chia before he left, but that place seemed the only world he could return to anyway. 

A great winged shape flies overhead, blocking out the sun momentarily. Talus immediately slowed Hoofkyre’s steps, dropping and rolling onto the ground neighboring them. 

He was hidden because of the trees, but his scent would be all the more potent to Elysium without the protection of his armor. Talus, Hoping it will buy him some more time, slaps Hoofkyre’s rear to send him off into the woods. His galloping echoes before it grows unnervingly silent, only the wind rustling in the canopies above. Talus sits, barely making breaths. 

The ground below him reverberates with force, causing the weeds to shimmer and shake like the tails of snakes. Each quake increased in force, drawing closer and closer to him. Finally he saw her black tail worm its way through the trees. It moved slow, as if it were a shark in the oceans that hadn’t noticed him yet. From here, he could see every groove of her scales, and the runes that made up her magical nature. The dragoness seemed so much larger when she wasn’t in her chambers, but he guessed it was because all she did was curl up and demand food… 

The tail turns and circles around a tree, snapping against its bark suddenly. It bends and cracks like a shoddy bow before toppling over, scaring some birds away from its relatives. Talus knew she could smell him, but he didn’t know how well. 

“Come on out, paladin.” She snarled, waves of flame jutting from her maw. Her runes were dangerously luminous, reflecting her agitated state. “Your steed was smart enough to run on without you. Don’t you understand? You failed me, so you must die. You are solely responsible for the death of your friends, and I do not tolerate murderers in my kingdom.”

She steps close, the talons of her forelegs right next to him. Talus was sure she couldn’t see him only because of the branches of the pine and birch trees surrounding him. Her jaw was visible now, touching down to the ground he’d made contact with seconds ago. Elysium’s head flicks to the side, her yellow pupil staring at him intently. 

“There you are.”

She lunged, but for the second time today Talus’ fate had other plans in mind. A blur of movement slams into Elysium’s head, worsening the damage Talus had dealt prior with his shield. He knows not—he cares not— what caused it, but he takes full advantage. While the dragoness reels away from the trauma, Talus runs across the length of her jaw with his sword in hand, cutting it deeply from the right cheek to the lower lid of her eye. Black, boiling god’s blood sprays from out of the curved wound in streams like pissing horses. Talus shields himself from the acidic substance, the dribbles sliding off and killing the grass beneath him immediately. Again the blur slams into Elysium, this time her side. 

There’s a sickening crack that resonates within her body, and she roars aloud. White-hot flames stampede through the leaves of the forest, Talus only narrowly avoiding death by incineration. He was glad he hadn’t brought his armor even more now, as the heat likely would have cooked him even further than he had been already. The burns across his exposed arms and legs didn’t hurt… yet. Elysium roars again, seemingly more focused on the blurred figure fighting her than Talus. It would be her last mistake. 

He charges again, this time allowing gravity to work for him by slicing his blade down the length of his former god’s neck. The spilt acidic blood was unavoidable, but he protects his eyes with the steel tower shield. The rest of his limbs were not so fortunate, smoking gently from contact with the burning fluid. 

The blurred figure finally slows enough from a shoulder bash to Elysium that Talus can finally recognize it as the god-prince. He knew not why she would follow him to unexplored territory, but he thanked whatever god he would serve in advance for this fortunate encounter. 

Hothshine was fast, but Elysium was bigger and more durable. After she slows from the kick she’s slammed to the ground by the dragoness’ dense tail, sending her flying into weeds and dirt. She erupts from the soil, her face baptized by rage. Elysium slams her back down into the earth, cackling wickedly despite her mounting injuries from the fight.

Talus by this point had gotten close enough for a second strike, in which he chopped so far into the flesh of her mid-tail that it began to peel and tear off from its own motion. The dragoness’ screams were agonizing to listen to, but he had found his own pleasure in conflict once more. Hothshine is released, and sides with Talus as Elysium stares at the two of them with an oily black body. Just when Talus thought they could fight together, the god-prince bolts off into the woods. He only has a moment to curse her out before he is holding back the bleeding dragon’s head with his hands. 

Elysium jerked upright, flinging Talus into the air and eliciting a stretched sensation from his arm muscles. He closes his eyes expecting to land in Elysium’s bathing rays of heat, but he lands on the back of a different, much longer dragon.

This one was green, and though he did not know if it was the  _ same _ person, he knew it to be Hothshine or at least Hothshine’s. The woodland green dragon roars and wraps around Elysium’s neck with the full length of her tail, slamming the black dragoness into the ground much in retaliation to how Hothshine had been treated. Or… how  _ it _ had been treated. Talus didn’t know anything yet but with his apathy replaced by survival instinct, he would make it a point to ask. 

The two dragons duel for some time while Talus watches, unable to strike because of their writhing speeds. It’s clear the new contender is the victor with ease. Elysium’s runes glow brightly and heal her body but instead of fighting she flees, scorching the plant life behind her as cover. He sees her lips curl in sadistic victory as she flies away to the city. 

It seemed all too short-lived for Talus, but he then noticed they’d been circled by bowmen from a distance while the two dragonesses clashed. The emerald dragon herself was gone, replaced by a wounded Hothshine with crimson painted across the gashes in her back from Elysium. Probably not the best situation to be in. 

The rangers draw their arrows back from between the trees, all waiting to fire at the same moment. Hothshine was exhausted from what Talus presumed was her transformation back, and he wasn’t within range to strike any of them. He watched as the one nearest to him dropped dead from some sort of shortened arrow that pierced the archer’s skull. This served as an adequate distraction after another one fell seconds later, and soon the bowmen broke their circle to try and spy this new threat. 

There’s a rustling from a patch of leaves on a tree, and the third archer falls from a silver blade flung into his shoulder from above. A figure cloaked in a black leather duster of some kind and a mask of what appeared to be steel begins massacring the archers one by one. Their arrows merely snapped against the hide, and his helm shattered the heads on impact. He retrieves his blade from the bloodied corpse of the third guard, wiping it clean with a crimson-stained rag pulled swiftly from his pocket. The man stares blankly at Talus and Hothshine, who’s still clutching her wounds on the ground and seething from the mouth in pain. 

He walks forwards and assesses her wounds, but she slaps him away. He backs up and gives a loud whistle before speaking in a gravely, almost farmland accent. It shocked Talus, moreso because he took this man to be of silence and class.

“Whewee. Looks like y’all have found some trouble itchin’ to pounce on your behinds. Name’s Vlast, but you can call me whatever.”

Hothshine stands and straightens her back, causing it to pop in a few places from her crouched position. “Thank you Vlast, but the paladin and I have urgent matters to attend to back at my temple grounds.”

Talus doesn’t pipe up. He had no desire to and quite frankly he’d already figured out it’d be a deathwish to try and isolate himself from the only community that seemed to want him alive thus far. Vlast seems irked by this demand. 

“You oughta loosen up your words, dragon lady. I just saved your lives and I ain’t in any position to let you go that eas’ly.”

“Pardon me.” Hothshine says defiantly, balancing her footing and groaning. “But I am dealing with the extinction of my homeland currently, and you are only delaying me.”

“How soon is this… extinshin?” Vlast asks, waving the crossbow in his hands. 

“A week at best? I don’t know. We have to hurry.”

“Fine, we’ll come to an agreem’nt later.” Their masked savior says, crossing his arms in remembrance. 

Talus grabs Hothshine’s shoulder as she walks away, turning uer towards him. 

“What happened?”

She gulps and explains with shaky hands, perhaps from the wounds in her back or from nervousness.

“Psikkorath unlocked the secrets of that ‘orb’ you found. Last night he found out what it was.”

“And?” Talus leans in.

“It’s an egg. It hatched.”


	4. Chapter 4

**The Prince, Her Priest**

_Chapter IV_

The three of them (Hoth, Talus, and now Vlast) worked together to hijack a carriage of four horses on the guard supply road. One horse was left behind, but the other three were used to travel more quickly to Baudros’ grounds. The plan to get there was simple as they would ride horseback for the first day or so, and by the grace of some yet unknown god the carriage had food and supplies for their journey. Better than having to rob another unfortunate guard and waste more time, Talus thought. 

It remained odd to Talus that he’d never heard of Baudros’ influence being wide enough for a temple that large, but he himself had never been this far from home. Likely Elysium’s doing, but he couldn’t make sense of why or shake the feeling there was something big he was missing. It was as if she had plugged his eyes and ears to the real happenings of the world his whole life. Then again he’d never been the outwardly perceptive type, at least when it came to worldly things.

The journey seemed to take less than half the time he and his men had taken, possibly because he’d traveled this route so many times it would be godly intervention for him not to know by now. Hothshine seemed to be healing well, and by that he estimated three days was just her maximum time. Must be some sort of magical doings by the runes which had been engraved in her skin. Vlast remained silent most hours, adding to his roguish archetype that had been juxtaposed earlier by his rural accent.

Nothing much was said, but on the beginning of the second day Hothshine began to ask questions for Vlast. 

“Why did you help us? You haven’t gained anything.”

“Nothin’ yet at leas’. Like I said, we’ll be workin’ somethin’ out anyhow.”

“We save your home, we save mine. Back scratchin’ I think it is referred to as?”

“Yes. What exactly _is_ your home? You seem much different than anyone I have encountered… not that I’ve been anywhere that far.”

“I’m glad you asked. I come from a little city-state waaaayyy to the south from here. Big farmlands, but not a whole lot of people. I’m gonna guess your home is some big viking clan by your muscle. Am I right or amiright?”

“What are vikings?”

“Ah. Nevermin’ then.”

Their horses were thankfully bred for long distance travel, benefits of stealing them from a traveler’s cart. He wasn’t sure if Hoth would eat them as a dragon or if they would simply be let go. Either way, the questions from when Talus had first met Hothshine was creeping back up now that they were relatively alone.

“Hothshine.” He says loudly, to carry over the wind of their speed. 

“Yes, we will be able to fly there. I am almost fully healed.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“What, then?”

“Why do you refer to yourself as a prince?” 

She goes silent, and all noises around them seem to drop besides the horses moving fervently. Hothshine looks at Vlast before deciding he wouldn’t be an issue for her to take down. At least, that’s what Talus inferred from her deadly gaze. 

“Why do you want to know?” Her eyes turn to him, strikingly emerald. 

“You present yourself as one and take others as one yet you are a woman.”

“I do not always consummate as a man. I punish as a man, love as a woman.”

“I do not understand.” Talus responded, slowing his horse to a walking pace as their steeds were becoming exhausted. 

“My father feared I would not be respected as my mother died before she could produce a son. He didn’t want to take the risk, so he raised me as he would have a son.”

“That does explain a lot. What of Psikkorath? He is older than you yet he passes on your will with little hesitation. Most priests I have encountered would not follow the word of a god younger than them, no matter their power.” 

“Psikkorath and I did not always get along. I don’t know the specifics, but before I passed my trials to the throne my father took him aside to say something. After that he began following me with utmost zeal.” 

“You said trials to the throne. What barbaric trials did you need to perform?”

“I had to kill my father.”

“...”

“In combat. Once I turned sixteen years I would need to challenge him once a year until one of us died or won. It wasn’t easy, and it was tradition.”

“...”

“I didn’t enjoy it, if that’s what you’re asking.” Hothshine remarked coldly. She turned her gaze away, up to the universally strange colors in the distant horizon. Vlast comments on this unremarkably. 

“Strange fuckin’ scenery goin’ on over there. That where we’re headed?”

“Yes.” The god-prince says, gritting her teeth. 

“You haven’t mentioned what’s happened in full detail. I feel as though that’s necessary to know.” Talus points out, both figuratively and literally in the direction of the lights. 

“I don’t know. It just changed his mind. I wanted to stop him but he had already convinced my people that I was not a true leader to them. I would have taken my place back by force but killing my people leaves me with nothing.”

“I see. So what do you want _us_ to do about this?”

“Remove the creature that hatched. I don’t know what it was, he would never let me get a look at it. Without it his mind will be untainted… hopefully.” 

“I see. Then let us go forth.” 

Talus spurs on his horse, patting Vlast’s on the ass, who seemed a bit reluctant. 

The swamplands that laid before the desert had dried almost completely. The animals that had once thrived in the water were now husks, turned over and dead. Even the leeches he’d fought before. Everything was much hotter, likely thanks to the shimmering, prismatic waves that burned in the sky above. The temple could be seen now, a terrific and otherworldly structure compared to its former self. If Talus had not seen its prior version, he would have considered it a completely new building. Hothshine stepped towards it, her lips quivering. 

“We must go. Hold my hands. I will fly us there”

“Seems a bit lewd for my tastes, bu’ sure I guess.” Vlast chimes in, linking arms with her. Talus grabs on and braces, preparing to be ripped from the sand. The god-prince grunts, the visible runes on her body bulging like veins as her mass begins to warp and change. 

Hothshine made more sense to Talus now anatomically. It seemed almost as if she had the body of a dragon forced and compacted inside of her own more than a simple changing spell. Not only would this bring added strength and resilience, the change would be less harmful to her. Her limbs seemed to change almost as if they were snapping into place rather than being bent and broken to heal in a new position. Talus then realizes that someone would have had to have done that to her, and the only professional magic user he’d met so far had been her high priest Psikkorath. He sighs as his arm is jolted away from him, forcing the rest of him to follow while aching in sudden pain from the lurch. 

Hothshine’s grand forest-tinted wings were wide and strong, easily able to lift her off the ground and towards Baudros’ formerly owned mysterious sanctuary. He and Vlast held onto her now forelegs, the claws like individual daggers of pure black. Horns sprouted in the same color from the rear of her head, curly but tightly wound and pointed like an antelope’s. The scales that coated her body were much smoother and fluid than Elysium’s, built for silence rather than aggression and power. They weren’t easy to grip onto though, and Talus found himself adjusting positions constantly in order not to fall. 

As they grew closer the air grew much warmer, and the sand below began to shimmer and descend into a blasted plane of glass. Anyone on the outskirts of town had been reduced to half-ash skeletons and roasted piles of flesh. Whatever had hatched had come into the world with a bang, and judging by the temple it would leave a lasting mark.

The temple had become its own unbearable nightmare of a structure. It seemed as if it had exploded, condensed back together, and exploded again while together in the same jumble right after. The sky sparked with lightning, illuminating the random geometric shapes the stone and stairs had become. Each one was seemingly chained to the ground of the once-grotto by masses of calcified white flesh, swaying gently with the rock of the unknown. Talus could make out bones and faces, antlers and pelts etched into the non-flesh surrounding the village in swaths like spiderwebs. Something within him screamed in fear, yet he could not bring himself to do so audibly. Hothshine folds in her webbed wings, circling around the floating shapes and revealing a set of hovering stairways leading up to the god-prince’s room amidst the ascended debris. A strange, ominous light emanates from within the depths of the somehow intact chamber. 

Hothshine descends and drops them both beforehand as she yields mid-air, letting them fall properly onto their feet. She collapses next to him after reducing herself, panting from her own exertion and fear. Even Talus could feel it. Vlast seemed disturbed at best, curious at most. 

“It wasn’t this way when I left. Psikkorath has done something.” Hothshine says, inspecting the sparkly ground of grass and broken supports. 

She turned slowly to inspect the grotto, now exposed and laid bare. The trees had been warped and twisted into alien shapes, producing blue leaves and strange fruits with phosphorus properties. The animals were completely vacated from the premises, and Talus knew for certain what the fleshy white strands linking everything were made of. 

“And uh… anyone mind explainin’ what the fuckin’ ‘ell is goin’ on?” Vlast asked aloud, his springblade and crossbow out as if expecting a fight. 

“I just said I don’t know what happened after I left.” Hothshine balls her fist and turns to the hunter, who raises his hands in surrender.

“Alright scary dragon lady, why don’t we jus’ ask them then?”

“Who?”

She turns, and realizes very late what Vlast meant. Talus recognizes it from a more tactical sense. 

The villagers, previously unseen and unheard, emerge from the corners of the overrun houses and pathways. Each one’s eyes were glowing green, the same hue that the ghouls in the desert had acquired. Most of their clothing was tarnished and replaced by robes of the same non-flesh substance coating the area. Talus wasn’t sure if he was thankful or not that he couldn’t see Chia anywhere. 

“Do not hurt them! If we stop this madness at its source they will be freed!” Hothshine says, bolting at incredible speeds past the two men.

Talus and Vlast look at each other with immense displeasure at their new situation. Separated from the god-prince, the paladin and the bounty hunter draw their various instruments of murder. The figures of the entropic village shamble forth, drawing their daggers and grunting like elderly dogs preparing to kill. Talus raises his shield in preparation for something he had deemed a ‘Breakthrough technique’, which was essentially just rushing through the enemies with brute force and hoping none of them were stone walls. None of them proved to be, and they were much easier to move than the undead soldiers under the influence of this unknown magic he’d fought before. Some even seemed to show sane movements, dodging or rolling away from his charge. Vlast stayed huddled close to his rear, slashing at anyone who came close.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to arrive upon the elevated platforms of dirt and rock. Ahead laid a hole-ridden tarp, flapping in the bursts of wind and strange color coming from within what was once Hothshine’s sanctum. Topping the stairs the two burst past it, cutting it from its seams entirely and charging through. 

Talus was the first to notice something was off. Firstly, there were no sounds of a fight. Secondly, the chamber was lit by strands of the off-flesh with bioluminescent spheres dotted every three inches or so in various sizes and tints. The material coated the entire inside, the silhouette sleeping creature nestled within a hollow cocoon of sorts on the furthest wall. Vlast saw this and fired his crossbow at it immediately, figuring between ‘it hatched’ and ‘remove the source’ that this was what to do. The embryonic shadow stopped moving once a bolt pierced its chest, but nothing more followed. A moment for Talus alone came next, as he noticed the chamber was much larger than it had been previously. The substance coating the walls had forcibly worked its way into the bricks and spread them apart, almost doubling the room’s entire size. He thought it had looked bigger than before outside but… this was unnatural.

Suddenly Talus was made very aware of something watching them from the ceiling supports. A flash of multicolored eyes and mandibles and Talus was thrown away from his position to thump into the malleable walls. Vlast had very much the same time to react, getting in a slash at one of the eyes with his springblade and reliable survival reflexes. The creature hissed in pain before retreating back to the only dark spot in the room. A sound like thousands of nails being hammered into wood rang from above them both as it scurried to and fro. 

“Reveal yourself, hellspawn!” Talus shouts, his tower shield arched above his head and his sword poised to stab just on its edge. The creature drops, but to call it a simple creature would be underestimating what he now faced. 

Psikkorath was alive, but by means known only to the gods. The lower half of his torso had been fused by the non-flesh to the mass of his large centipede husks. His former legs tapered to points, jutting out in blades like an insect's forelegs. Talus stared upwards at him, Psikkorath’s chest bulging with colorful veins and orbs. No longer did he have eyes, instead the nameless material had given him new eyes from red to blue. Even his staff had been tainted, the eggshells of the creature’s birthing welded onto it in crystalline fashion. All of his eyes stare at Talus and Vlast from high above, his figure standing at least ten feet with the added length. Mandibles stretch out from the sinew of his jaw and clack together as he speaks with much hissing and spraying of stomach fluids.

“You return, Paladin. And you’ve brought a new friend. We will all rejoice on this occasion.”

“Rejoice over what? Madness and death? You have lost yourself. What happened here?”

“An awakening.” The monster of a priest says, gazing dreamily upwards as if in a trance. It broke soon after. “A message from the stars delivered by disaster, and a premonition given clarity by the shattering of minds.”

Talus didn’t care about his blasphemous speech. Raising his black-stained sword he pointed it at Psikkorath’s chest—or what was left of it anyway. Vlast follows suit with his 

“Where are Hothshine and the healer girl?” Talus demanded. 

“They are resting in preparation for the upcoming ritual.” 

The paladin knew he could not strike with hope left to live, and he knew that Vlast was unequipped to deal with such unholy abominations of life. Distantly the clamor of the bewitched village folk could be heard growing closer and closer, encircling the venturing pair with strange utterances and phrasings. The sound of deep, resonating drums began to monotonously drone in waves. Glancing backwards for an instant Talus saw that they had made large drums from what little clothing and wood they’d had before, though he could not pinpoint their importance. Vlast seemed equally bemused, charging forward and rolling past the infallible movements of Psikkorath’s bladed legs. He was struck one, no, two times by the pointed edges of the husk’s limbs but he continued to the opposite wall of the room unfazed. His armor clearly served him well, and Talus was sure even his own mail would not have withstood it. At the very least, he was glad Vlast was no coward as well as an experienced fighter.

The priest clamors to get down from the rafters, breaking them from his new and clearly unadjusted weight. While Psikkorath remains unharmed, the removal of the priest reveals Hothshine and Chia among a random few villagers. Each of them seemed to have been suspended by the white, fluorescent substance that seemed so common here and none of them appeared to be able to move. Even Hothshine’s anatomy refused to budge, though her eyes were fully open and frantically darting between Talus and Vlast as the two closed in on Psikkorath. 

Vlast desperately reloads his crossbow as Talus rushes the insectoid priest with a flurry of slashes, tearing off a few of the less sturdily attached legs. Though no blood spews from the wounds, Psikkorath screams with the intensity of two dying souls and raises his free hand towards his aggressor. A ring of yellow light tainted by dark tinctures of other colors forms, blasting Talus with a thick ray of heat and prismatic light. He feels his skin become blackened and crispy immediately on contact, forcing him to barricade himself behind his tower shield. 

The ray is cut off by an iron bolt sprouting from Psikkorath’s forehead, but he only becomes more enraged. The high priest’s lower half whips around and crawls towards Vlast, slamming into his torso with unprecedented force. The bounty hunter shrivels and goes limp against a nearby pillar as soon as he makes contact. Talus took his chance, plunging his sword into the exposed crevice between Psikkorath’s chitin plates and pulling to the side with all of his might. Ignoring the frantic cries from the infested throat hanging above him, he rips out of the other side after a heavy grunt and the feeling of his cooked flesh reopening its wounds for fresh pain. Psikkorath screamed again as another bolt ripped through his chest cavity and embedded itself in the broken rafters above. 

Despite being terribly lopsided in posture and cut away from half of his lower body, the high priest is able to formulate words. The words he spoke made little sense to Talus, but he suspected them to be warnings by the fervor of his voice. 

“Just one! You have stopped nothing!” Psikkorath wailed, more of that unholy substance blossoming from the hole in his skull. Another attack from Talus reduced him to his upper half, which flopped on the floor and wailed about like a worm. The priest’s staff clattered to the ground and shattered into shards of the extraordinary orb Talus had encountered in the desert. Walking forward, he prepares to end this wriggling pest’s life with his blade and free the village.

Out of desperation Psikkorath begins crawling away, but Talus stomps on the rotten innards of his stomach and keeps him in place. The priest puts his hand together in prayer fashion knowing his life was about to be halted. 

“No god you pray to can save you from this, Psikkorath. If that’s even what you are.” Talus says, grinding his foot into the monstrous thing’s intestines and flattening them against the stone. 

Psikkorath whimpered and breathed raggedly, chortling maniacally. “We have only begun. She will return and bathe the world in her presence, there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Wonderful. But I don’t give up so easily, bug.”

The priest is decapitated, his head flying off of his shoulders and rolling a few feet away. The parasitic non-flesh substance bursts from his skull and explodes into a myriad of lights, blinding Talus. When the flash subsides, any and all of the material from the corpse is gone, leaving a deflated and rotted husk. Perhaps Psikkorath never survived the blast of otherworldly energies that consumed this place… 

Vlast stands with a cracking of his joints, pulling a grappling hook from his pack and landing it on one of the intact rafters above, Hoisting himself up, he motions for Talus to catch those that he cuts down. After each one is caught, they are laid against the chamber’s wall until they recover. One by one, the remaining villagers animate as whatever the priest did to them wears off. 

Hothshine recovers first, bolting over to the embryo stored in the cocoon in the wall and punching her fist into it. She pries it out, her hand covered in a white yolk-like substance. Disgust comes over the god-prince’s face as she wipes the fluid from her fingers. Chia runs to her from behind, hugging her like a long lost friend.

“I knew you’d return god-prince! You never should have let him do experiments on that rock from the desert, I told you it was a bad idea.”

“Yes, it probably was. I just never imagined… _this_ to be the end result. Do you know how this happened?” Hothshine asked, stroking Chia’s cheek gently in a manner that made anger flare briefly in Talus’ heart. 

“Psikkorath asked me to take anyone who needed his help instead, He said he ‘didn’t want to be bothered’.”

“Anything else? He said the same to me.”

“He also told me to fetch him some spell components… buck fat and tinder I think?”

“Hmm…”

Talus stepped away from the conversation, parting the torn flap of fabric separating him from the outside. The drumming had stopped a bit ago, and now he could see the villagers slowly recovering from their overtaken minds. The altered landscape, however, was not changing back in the slightest. Even the floating spires and chamber itself had not succumbed to the natural fall that all non-winged things do. Nobody had witnessed whatever Psikkorath had done, and Talus was not sure he had the power to do this himself anyhow. That egg had to be the cause. Before that the priest had seemed only interested in it on a scientific level. After he returned here Psikkorath seemed… obsessive. Psychotic, even for a man of his commitment. 

The paladin’s thoughts are interrupted by Chia, who grabs his scorched hand. Immediately all of the pain of his burnt skin took hold, and he groaned while attempting to remain still. She seems to understand, running out to her somehow intact hut to grab some salve.

Vlast had no fucking clue what was going on. These two weirdo goons show up and demand he come with them for saving their lives, and that they would definitely repay him after. Well he’d decided that ‘after’ was now. Definitely overdue considering he’d helped kill whatever the hell that giant bug thing was and nearly had his skull caved in for doing so. That, and freeing the nice eye candy wouldn’t have been easy without him. 

“Ey lugnuts. We’re fuckin’ ‘eadin’ way south after this. Get ready, and don’t try and shortchange me--because we had a deal.” He shouts, his accent slipping into something more traversable in understanding just for this occasion. Neither of the two who had heard it before seemed to notice, but Hothshine ‘god-prince’ or whatever turned and glared daggers. Fuck was her problem?

“We’ll leave soon. Don’t demand anything from me if you haven’t earned it.”

“You fuckin’ bitch, I’ve saved your lives once--no, twice now! We had a deal too, and I’ll kill ya if ya don’t respec’ the terms.”

Hothshine leans in with pearly white teeth and breath that stank of wretched gas. “Kill me? I’d like to see you try that. It’ll be fun to rip off your arms before you can feel the pain.”

“Cease this!” Talus shouts. Chia had coated his burns in a numbing salve and wrapped them in bandages, so he was at the very least soothed physically. He strains to get up and walk over, the healer girl hugging his side to assist. “We owe him for helping us save your village at the very least. He has done above and beyond for someone we’ve just met, and if you will not aid him then I will.”

Hothshine snorts literal smoke in anger, causing Vlast to reel his head away. “Fine! Will two days work? Because I’ll be busy resituating my entire village and its people due to _unavoidable events_ it seems. Is that alright?!”

“Yeah sounds good ta me.” Vlast responds tamely, hanging his hands above his head and walking away. Talus follows so that he can further inspect the scale of the damage done and begin organizing the recuperated outside to leave. It wouldn’t be an easy journey for a new place of living, especially with little food or water with the grotto being bastardized by whatever fiendish magic had struck this place. 

  
  


The rest of the day decided to hang on every second like it was an hour. They had made it here fairly early in the morning due to traveling by horseback for a week and then Hothshine flying them first thing, but it seemed odd that Vlast would be relaxed by such a long delay of two more sunrises. This was peculiar twofold because Vlast considered saving an entire village repayment enough for whatever he needed, so it couldn’t have been something miniscule. 

While wandering around the nightmarish ruins, Talus spies Vlast hitting on one of the village girls in a narrow section between two devastated segments of Baudros’ temple. He walked closer to stop them but found himself enraptured by an engraving on the intact surface of the temple’s broken slant. It was an intricate carving involving Baudros’ six heads breathing what appeared to be fire into the sky and thus creating the sun. Was such a thing really possible for a god of his stature? Probably. He wondered how many stories and details he would never find now that Baudros’ sanctum had been ramshackled into a shadow of its former self. 

He turns his attention from the artistry and approaches Vlast. He seemed to be a charmer, but the intent behind his words seemed too clear for the girl and she left before Talus even arrived. 

“Ye fuckin’ blew me chances with ‘er. What gives?” Vlast accuses Talus, glaring through his dragonscale mask. Talus decides not to respond and poses his question. 

“What exactly are we helping you with in return for all of your assistance?”

“Oh! That. Well… uh… I’ll tell ya when we get there a’ight?”

Talus grabs the slightly shorter man’s shoulders and holds him in place as he tries to high-tail it out of the secluded space. “The more I know now, the better I will be able to plan then. I’m not about to kill myself and others because someone refuses to give me information again.”

“Again?”

“Tell me.”

“Fine. My homeland--you know, the one I said was way south of here--has run into a bit of a pro’lem. It involves a very corrupted democracy and a bunch of other stuff I don’t think you’ve ever heard about.”

“Democracy?”

“Yep. There it is. Uh… hmmm… how to… oh! A democracy is kind of like when you elect a bunch of people you like to make decisions for ya.”

“Oh, so like an advisory council that’s picked by your god?”

Vlast puts his hands together against his mask and lowers them, sighing. “Yeah, sure. Like that. Except the ones we’ve elected are fucking _vampires_ and they’ve instated a bunch of new laws that protect them from getting staked.”

“What is a vampire?”

Vlast gains a very defeated posture and scratches at the top edge of his mask in frustration soon after. “They suck blood. They kill people in the night. They are not good to have around if you want to stay alive.”

“Ah, so like the Blood Leeches I encountered in the swamps we flew over. Nasty critters.”

Vlast raises a hand to combat his point but realizes they’ve finally found equal ground and drops it. “Yes, exactly like that but human-shaped. Humanoid? I don’t know.”

“Humanoid, yes.”

“Okay, great, you know the main problem. I’m also not allow’d in town because they know that I know who they are, so that’s anotha’ issue. We’ll have to sneak in.”

“You will have to sneak in. They do not know us and we don’t look like you.”

“Yeah, whatever. The last problem is that vampires can only be killed by staking them with wood or with silver. Silver weapons have been outlaw’d because they made up some bullshit prop’ganda that it causes hysteria in women or somethin.”

“That’s ridiculous, silver is quite common jewelry where I’m from.”

“Yeah! Exactly what I mean! Ridiculous” His accent had slipped into its norm by accident. It sounded more rigid and proper, cultured even by the standard of his other accent. He clears his throat and resumes the act. “This here city ain’t my home, but I know some good friends there that they’ve taken advant’ge of. I’m not one to talk, but that’s just plain cheatin’.”

“I’m a man of honor. I understand what you mean.” Talus replies with mild respect in his words. “You have my sword and hopefully Hothshines… wings(?).”

Vlast is let go, and he strides away with the faintest of grins underneath his mask. 

“Thanks, you won’t regret this paladin, I can assure you that.”

Hothshine busies herself in her redecorated chamber by turning Psikkorath’s husk into a new coat. If anything he deserved to repay her in death for everything he’d done to her home, her people. She knew whatever had been forming from that ‘egg’ had corrupted him. Sharp eyes like hers never missed anything in a person, even thoughts of insubordination. Her most loyal follower and zealous archmage wouldn’t do this degree of damage to his own priests, and her father had forced him to make a vow never to do so to anyone unless Hothshine ordered it to be done. The true Psikkorath would have known how to disable her runes and abilities too, since _he_ had carved them into her flesh to make it all possible. 

The knife tore through his hollowed and bleached skin like paper, exposing… nothing. No organs, no blood. No evidence that he’d even had to piss before dying. Even his bones were gone, and those are not so easy to destroy entirely. Her eyes darted around the room for a trace of him, but she caught no signs left behind anywhere. She hoped for Psik’s sake that he had died during his transformation, and that whatever had taken over was just using his adulterated form. 

Hothshine hoped this, because she knew that thing would come after them again for foiling whatever it had tried to do. 


	5. The Sea, the Isle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes wrong.

**The Sea, the Isle**

_ Chapter V _

Though Hothshine would be very much busy assisting her people in either restoring their hearth (an unlikely scenario) or guiding them to much more suited lands, Vlast drafted her a map to his homeland on a scrap piece of leather with a knife. Talus was out of earshot enough that he could not hear either of them, but it did seem that after some time he had managed to convince Hothshine once she let down her proud stance. The paladin was amazed quite frankly, and as soon as he and Vlast had set out on the road with the remaining food from their highway robbery he began to discuss.

“She seems naive towards us to agree so swiftly. What did you say?”

“I simply informed her that I was the rightful ruler who had been cast down by the  _ demons in the court _ !” Vlast exaggerates with a noble accent, throwing his fist in the air like a man who had been wronged by those above… or below in this case, Talus supposed. The paladin laughs dryly, but doesn’t hold onto his tone.

“Are you?”

“Nah.”

The both of them laugh, and then stop. Not having Hothshine meant they could bond with one another as men, but her return ensured that Vlast would probably be punished similarly to how Talus had been. He still shuddered, even the smell from that day haunting him whenever it came around. Talus wondered whether it would be better for the hunter to know beforehand what he’d just thrown upon himself or if he would operate better without the lingering anxiety of the inevitable. Vlast spoke before he could, answering his moral dilemma. 

“So, I also sorta kinda agreed to trade our rides here--”

Of course. If Hoth had the horses she would have to repay them somehow once she found a suitable setting. It made so much more sense to Talus now.

“--Buuuut, we woulda had to go there by ship e’en if she did come with us.”

“Why is that?”  
“Ya know how some people worship dragons as gods and such, like dragon lady’s siteeation and Eleezum or whatever?”

“...Yes.”

“Back home that ain’t a thing. Once a dragon came in to enslave us and ‘proclaim godhood’ we just killed or enslaved 'em instead.”

“How would you do such a thing? That is a tremendous feat.”

“My people and I are just that. Tremendous and inven’ive. Took down about four of the beasts in the beginnin’, now we got around eh… twenty I’d say?”

“Twenty dragons?!”

“Well some are just hatchlin’s but yeh. Actually, I’ll just explain once we get into the town. Shouldn’t be too hard. I also warned the dragon lady not to go there as a beast so there’s no need to worry.”

“I… very well. Vlast, you said?”

“Yep. ‘Bout right. Here, head this way. The ocean’s just ‘crossed the other side past the desert’s cooler parts and the swamp’s dryah parts.”

“I figured the swamp would have to derive its water from somewhere.” Talus points out. “It is near a desert, which isn’t a common occurrence.”

“Smart thinking. You’ll be good for helping me get into the city unseen.”

“What do you mean ‘unseen’?” The paladin snarls and stops in his tracks, glaring. His dirtied beard and disheveled look didn’t hinder his intimidation in any form. Clearly Vlast was affected, raising his arms in a defensive manner and stuttering to explain himself. Talus was unamused, he’d already asked this tiny man to do so. “Explain now or I will not follow you any further.” The wounded and angered man barks. 

“I-I-... Alright, let me start from the top. Please, we should walk so we don’t waste any more time than we have.” The bounty hunter said, his mask accent failing. It instead took on its natural roots. Hard, guttural consonants and quick, flowy vowels. A strange accent that spoke of past alignment with battle commands and wars. It made sense if his nation had managed to enslave dragons. “Our people were just a few small villagers in the beginning, much like how dragon lady--”

“Hothshine.”

“--Yeah, whatever. Much like how ‘er people are. Kinda weak in numbers, but strong in belief and stuff. That was until we started farming, now we got a whole dozen royal families and dozens more plots of land for people to live on.”

“If your homeland is so great and powerful, how come I have never heard of it until now?”

“We don’t have trade routes, and everywhere else is so damn impoverished there’s really no reason to leave unless you’re exiled--like me.”

“And you were exiled because…?”  
“I killed a dragon. By myself of course, the city was so damn scared of me that the vampire coven had me kicked out.”

“And you did this how exactly?”

“I had it chained up and I dealt the final blow with my sword. The armor I’m wearing is handcrafted from its scales and tougher than iron, cooler lookin’ too.”

“If the scales were so tough and the beast was so fearsome, then how did you chain it, and how did you even break its skin?”

“Well, see, that’s where my genius comes into play. I trapped it underground before blinding it and ripping off its scales with some small explosives I planted underneath each one. Bending them into shape just required a press and a hammer, you see.”

“I do see. Is that our ride on the shore? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Talus says, cutting himself from the thrilling conversation and points to a large structure parked on the sand that he’d noticed. It was very obviously a ship as it had sails and a prow at the front, but it was plated in armor and had some sort of giant cylinder poking out of its rear. Next to its side was a giant circle with many flat pieces of steel linked to its frame. Sort of like a waterwheel, or maybe a mill. The wheel itself was slowly rolling back and forth against the waves of the shore. 

“That’s my steamship. I brought enough fuel and food for here and a trip back, luckily the thing is locked so that nobody else can mess with it.”

“Hmph. Let us hope that is the case.”

Vlast climbs a steel ladder attached to the boat’s siding, bolted in with yet more of this perfectly smelted metal. How the people of the town could amass such an amount and in such fine condition Talus didn’t know. He’d be sure to find out though.

Boarding the vessel was quite easy, and to unbeath it Vlast took a long metal pole with a flat hammer-like end and pushed. It took a few seconds (and some of Talus’ muscle), but the boat’s bottom was finally fully touching water yet again. The waves cradled the metal boat as it regained its balance, and Vlast exited the deck to head into some sort of complicated looking room past a door with a glass viewport. Down below were many stairs, pipes, and buckets full of wood and coal. Vlast was busy trying to start a fire with flint and steel amidst the darkness, the air foul with metallic scent and mustiness. Finally the bounty hunter resorted to tearing a piece of his own shirt off with his blade and chucking it into something that Talus couldn’t quite make out, his eyes still adjusting. The flame caught with a howl through the copper fixtures lining the wall, a gentle sense of activity filling the once dead ship’s interior. The fire’s light spewed forth and out of its container before Vlast shut it behind thick and heavy grates of iron. The ferocious sight reminded Talus of when he fought Elysium and he shuddered, touching the wounds on his body gently. 

“What’s the matter? Never seen a steam engine before?” Vlast says, cocking his head to the size with a shit-eating body language. Of course Talus didn’t, he’d rarely ever even left the capital. What a fool. But he was Vlast’s fool, and he’d help him seize power. 

“No, just warming myself up.” Talus responds coldly. In truth yes, he was warming himself up to the fire. This was not the whole truth though. Undoubtedly he had no desire to tell Vlast of all people about his situation with Hothshine, but he still felt as though he couldn’t keep the instance between them bottled up forever. Maybe he had out of submission or grief or… something. Perhaps even necessity. Now though, the ex-paladin knew that he would probably punch the god-prince the next time they met at best. At worst he knew he’d attempt to kill her. 

The bounty hunter busied himself opening some valves before running uptop suddenly. Talus sat looking into the fire for a few moments before there was a booming clank next to Talus. The boat kicked into motion, sending him flat on his ass with a pained grunt. 

“Vlast! What in Ely--what in the gods is going on up there?!” He shouts at the top of his lungs to the decks above. 

“What did you say?!” The scale-armored man responded from somewhere above. 

“What’s going on up there!”

“What was that?!”

“I--nevermind. I’m coming up!”

Talus shuffled up the stairs he’d just come down, arriving on the wood flooring topside. The ship was moving at an incredible pace with its rotating rudder and sails both going. Vlast was busy lowering the second-to-last one when he saw Talus. The noise had thankfully died down since they’d departed from the strand, and they were busy coasting along the waters at an incredible rate. Talus hadn’t even heard of ships moving this fast, nor this far. The most he’d heard tale of were large trading vessels, most of which were from such distant lands that the people didn’t even speak in the same dialect. 

“We’re in the clear now. Take a load off and plug your ears when I tell ya to.” Vlast says, returning to face Talus. 

“Why? Is your homeland permeated by sound?”

“No. Just the sirens on the way. Maidens of the sea who feast on unknowing travelers by luring them with songs.”

“Are the songs good?”

“Supposedly, but survivors say that it loses its shine after the first time. Not something you wanna listen to twice.” Vlast comments, pointing to some vaguely visible rocks in the misty horizons of the ocean ahead. Shadows of humanoid figures could be seen against the indents of sharp rock, with homes formed from other wrecked ships. Vlast went up the helm and took command of the wheel, steering it away from the vicious creatures on the isle. Talus could faintly hear their songs, but it didn’t strike him as noteworthy or ‘alluring’ as Vlast had described it. He felt no urge to be eaten alive by the women of the sea either, despite their beckoning and luscious expressions. The arc of their travel seemed just outside of their range too, so he only felt a faint mental nagging in the back of his skull by the time they passed the jumble of shipwrecks. 

The rest of their journey was uninteresting and monotonous, as most of Talus’ journeys within the month had been. Rations were shared, and some stories were exchanged. As Vlast droned on about his countless achievements and victories, Talus began to suspect that he was a social exaggerator of stories in every shape and size. Toppling monarchies with only his words? Striking down gods among even the dragons with skill alone? No man could perform such feats even at their prime, and Vlast spoke more and more like an adolescent with each day that passed. He’d seen him without his helm too--not a trace of facial hair on those cheeks, nor any scars from the fights. Vlast’s only feat was being a massive boast, as evidenced by countless contradictions. Talus takes note of this for now, prepared for a betrayal in the coming time between them.

Finally, the bounty hunter’s homeland came into view. Well, smell first, then sight. The air had a noticeably staler taste to it as Talus breathed, much further removed from the fresh gusts of his forest-locked city. The sky was considerably more grey as well, and the clouds carried with them hints of rain and storms on the march far above. The land mass itself was mountainous and wide, with spiny crags of cliffs and spikes that stretched up to grace the silver linings hanging from the god’s realm. The little light left from the sky gleamed off of a massive gate that blockaded the city’s ports, the only direct entrance Talus could make out among the spires and stone. Every direction seemed naturally fortified, and the one that wasn’t had been constructed by man to withstand a frontal assault with metallurgic resistance. 

“Yep. That’s Belghaust. I never could get enough of that smoky scent!” Vlast shouts from the helm. 

“Smoke? Is that what that foul odor is?” Talus comments to the bounty hunter from the boat’s prow. Then he noticed them, the countless plumes leading upwards, traced to what he could only assume was hundreds of individual homes. Each one appeared to be constructed entirely of stone and brick, much more decadent than the homes in his old stomping grounds of Elysium’s capital. It seemed as though the more he explored this world, the more he realized just how trapped he had been under her claws. 

“Sure is. We get most of our heat from the mage’s guild and the dragons that work in the mines below.”

“You have entire guilds of mages? Wait-- the dragons are  _ below  _ town? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

“Sometimes, if they don’t get fed. And yes, we have entire guilds to train mages. Colleges even.”

“How? Your home looks quite small from here.”

“We just kept going down. When you have a lot of steel you tend to be able to make strong building supports. Doesn’t work all the time with cave-ins and shifts that happen regularly for some reason, but it’s home.”

“So your people come from a hole in the ground?”

“...Yeah.”

“Fantastic. Does that make you an insect then?”

“I… maybe? I dunno what the definition of an insect is. Probably.”

“I see.”

There laid a problem ahead, namely that the massive gates in their path were not opening. Vlast hurriedly pushed Talus to the prow of the boat, running to the below deck.

“Just wave your arms and tell ‘em you’re lost! They won’t fire cannons atcha. We can work the rest out later.”

Talus didn’t really like Vlast’s repetitive use of him as some sort of blockage for danger. There wasn’t much choice now with the position he’d been put in though, since if he chose to do nothing they’d crash straight into an aegis of construction much more formidable than the boat was. Stepping as far out on the boat’s tip as he could, Talus hugged the ropes and began shouting. This ended up making him appear to be a buffoon of sorts, because as soon as they got close the gate began to split apart for an opening at such smooth speed he could only drop his arms in awe and fall face-first into the water like a limbless trout. 

Talus struggled to swim in the darkened waters below the ship and gate. The force of water coming together from the entrance’s doors sliding apart was submerging him further and further. His wounds had healed but the burns and sores still ached from his fight with.. well.. everything in the past month. He was fighting to keep himself afloat. A regular boat or raft would have been fine, it was wide enough to withstand the differential forces. Talus was not, he was small enough to fall into the vacant gap. These thoughts whirled in his head as he was tossed and turned with the ocean, until finally everything went black once his head slammed into a piece of shipwreck below the surface. 

Talus’ final thoughts before going totally unconscious went something like this:

“Blasted gods, knocking me out every damn opportunity. I’d better not wake up to getting defiled again. Especially not by Hothshine.”

  
  


Talus did indeed wake up, but it was to Vlast slapping him awake incessantly. As the ex-paladin socked the bounty hunter across the room in response, he eyed his new surroundings. He was firstly thankful that he was not in the nude, and secondly that there was no beefy woman nearby ready to rip him a new asshole. Vlast was saying something about how they needed to hurry up, but Talus was in no mood to listen to the whelp. Reflexively his hands found themselves on his sword next to an expertly crafted bedside table. The room’s interior was made of cut planks and logs, smoothed down with metal bindings to keep them in place. It seemed like a simple guest cabin of sorts, given that it looked much lesser in quality compared to the houses he’d seen coming into town. There was a single window on the wall to his left, but the curtains were drawn and Vlast didn’t seem inclined to open them at the moment.

The pitifully scarred and cut bounty hunter storms over to Talus, weapons out and covered in various shades of red. 

“We have to get out of here now. The coven knows about us.”

“Us? You mean you. I really doubt you dragged me out of there by yourself.”

“Well yeah, but that’s because they-- I don’t have time to explain this. You’re either with me or against me, alright?” Vlast retaliates, giving his ultimatum quite clearly with the tip of his sword to Talus’ chest. 

“I’ve dragged my ass across the desert, swamp, and ocean to get knocked unconscious by the ocean. You’re going to threaten to kill me because I don’t want to walk?”

“Yes. Is it unreasonable? You promised to help me after your ordeal was finished.”

“I didn’t exactly expect to slip off of the railing and cause a blunder. Get your sword off of my chest before I turn your ribs inside out.” Talus responded calmly. 

Vlast drops his sword immediately before rushing to cast aside the curtains, rod and all. With a clatter of fabric and iron the window was broken and he was gone. Talus didn’t mind, though the new breeze brought in unpleasant odors and a cold sensation down his back. With the fresh silence he could go back to resting, and healing the awful head pain banging around inside of his skull. The cool air outside of the thick covers surrounding his body felt pleasant, and as he laid his head back down to sleep he swore he saw something looking at him from the corner of the room. When his eyes shot back open, he found nothing there, and when they closed again they did not open for the next few hours. 

Talus roused slowly, a sharp pain on his chest causing his eyes to open sorely. He felt more pain now, and a creeping red from a new wound. A woman with pale skin was perched on his clothed body, though his outfit had been torn by her sharp, bloodied nails. His eyes wandered to hers, which were partially obscured by locks of brilliantly golden hair. The luscious lips touched to his recently opened wounds stopped, and a slender tongue came out to lick off the crimson tainting.

“Oh… you’re waking up.” The woman said in a reserved but distantly familiar voice. Talus attempted to raise his arms to stop her from eating at his seeping pools of blood, but she held both down with incredible strength. 

This was the last thing the paladin wanted to wake up to, maybe it was a better idea to follow Vlast after all. He suspected it wouldn’t have changed anything in his current state though, Talus didn’t even know how much time had passed between his head injury and now. With quick thinking, he bashed his forehead against hers and rolled out from under her, grabbing his sword from the bed stand. 

“Creature of night, begone!” He yelled, slashing at her form. He only achieved ruining the sheets, as she was gone in a milky white mist before the blade was able to make contact. Drat. 

Talus patched up his clothing as best as he could, draping the bedsheet overtop of his body and tying it to cover his wounds. The sheet was stained red within seconds, but it would at the very least stop the bleeding… he hoped. Her teeth felt like needles, and he wasn’t sure how deep the wounds went. They didn’t hurt so much as they made his head feel… fuzzy… and slow. 

The paladin, sword in hand, stumbled outside into the lantern lit houses and brick-laid streets. He spotted a set of glowing yellow eyes in an alleyway for only a moment before they disappeared into another foggy cloud. It seemed she could only travel so far, given that it wasn’t that far from where he was now. He gave chase, surprised that he wasn’t weak or starved from however long he’d been in bed. By that logic, it was probable it was only a few hours then, which was good. 

Talus rounded the alley’s corner to find the woman, who was now dressed in a sultry outfit of black silk and stylistic trims of white. How she’d changed outfits so fast he didn’t know, and he also couldn’t understand why anyone would wear that on such a frosty night. This woman was both magically dangerous and yet clinically insane, probably the worst combination he’d--no, Hothshine topped her there. Definitely. 

He leapt forward and slashed again, surprising her with his sudden speed but still managing to only cut her arm as she shifted aside with inhuman reflexes. This was definitely one of the vampires Vlast had spoken of, but her tactics were janky and nonsensical. Every time he advanced towards her she simply poofed away. Sometimes he would get a cut or two in, but she always veered away from his reach and reappeared a few feet away. 

“Stop this!” Talus shouted, raising his sword arm high in the unlit alleyway. It then dawned on him that she was no longer running. He was stopped at a wooden door, which was opened just enough that he could feel a difference in heat from inside. 

Kicking open the door, he found she was splayed out on a large red bed in the middle of a comfortably furnished room, a fireplace to one side and crackling with heat. Her outfit had changed yet again, this time to a loose nightgown that barely hid her breasts from view. Talus would have left the room if not for this, though something in the back of his brain told him this was a ruse. He was not thinking with that head though. 

“What is this? You rip me open and now you’re in bed for me? Are you delusional?”

“Yeah… a bit. But I was hungry. Can’t you forgive me?” The vampiress responded, batting her eyes at Talus with licentious intent. She shifted the cloth away from her rear, exposing a set of toned and succulent cheeks of ivory that gleamed against the firelight. Talus was hesitant to attack her. Maybe he could snap her neck if he got closer… yeah. 

His footsteps pounded against the rug leading towards his prize, removing his clothing to reveal the thick cock that had been stirred beneath his underclothes. As soon as he made contact with the silken sheets, she was on top of him. Each movement of her eyes brought another surge to her strength, as if she now saw Talus as some god among men she’d captured. Her perfectly clean hands smoothed themselves down his chin and perched on his chest. She felt a bit cold, but that was probably from being outside for so long, right?

  
  


Meanwhile, Vlast had found himself prey to three quickly trailing figures that followed like his own shadow. Every panicked footstep he made only brought them closer, and he could hear their laughter drawing ever-closer. They were taunting him, but he had a plan of his own. 

Turning around, Vlast fired a shot from his flintlock at the closest encroaching shadow. With an audible scream, he felt a little bit more at ease. The problem now was getting the rest of them off of his tail. Spotting part of the food market coming into view, he ducked and rolled underneath a covered cart of grain and furiously began loading his next round. The ball was chambered and the powder was primed just in time for his cover to be ripped clean away from the ground, the cart sliding and just barely tapping the wall. He was exposed, the two vampire snatchers standing on either side of him. Vlast hoped the one on the left was cute, she was kind of a bombshell as far as women went. Actually, he would take the male too if it meant he could stay alive, as much as he hated the prospect. 

“Hah. That was quite a run you gave us.’ The male said, his sharp and pale features too perfect for a human. He definitely wasn’t one of the higher-ups, they always seemed less… human.

“Count yourself lucky it wasn’t you I shot. Speaking of--”

Vlast aimed at the male, but his arm was immediately speared in place by both he and the girl’s extending nails. So they were the higher ups, they’d just gotten better at hiding it…

He grunted in lots of pain, dropping the gun. The man only laughed and twisted his hand, opening Vlast’s wounds further and causing the bounty hunter to scream as much as his lungs would allow. He only realized a moment later, through the white stars in his eyes, that the woman had covered his mouth with her free hand. She was completely and totally stone-faced, but her eyes told tale that she was enjoying this. Maybe a bit too much, but he’d found vampires ended up a bit on the extreme end after their turning. 

“See, we  _ were _ just going to lock you back up for killing that dragon, but now that you’ve killed a member of the High Court we’ll let Lady Raven decide. I wonder if she’ll still be smitten with you once we tell her the news, I do wonder...”

“Fuck you.”

“Hahahah! You’re a little too feisty for me. Wira, could you be a dear and dress our guest accordingly? We want him looking sharp for his date, don’t we?”

The last thing Vlast saw properly that night was a sack being emptied from the grain cart, and subsequently placed over his head. The nails never left the innards of his arm. He could only dangle by Lady Wira’s arms and hope that they had not already gotten to Talus, he couldn’t imagine the utmost terrible things that would be done to the aching soldier of fate. He prayed that Hothshine would not find a similar fate once she came either--if she came, that was. Even if she did she might just take up their offer of power. Vlast didn’t want to think about what that would entail for him or Talus, the paladin had always seemed reluctant to speak of her during their travels. 

Vlast’s magical flying vampire girl ride ended quite swiftly when the hood was ripped off and he was dropped in a leather chair, immediately being roped down. In front of him was Lady Raven, his ex-wife. 

“Hello Daniel. Still too afraid to take off that mask? Was a calm life with me too little for you?”

Vlast gulped in the chair. This would not end well, he felt. 


End file.
